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WOMEN AN
THE SCREEN

wine. ww"::nrfN AS M

*"\-» «* **» <"'

ml *<*a

6AV. "«5""*6

Behold the beauty of
exotic song-bird llona
Massey as she hears
throbbing love-lyrics
from impassioned
Nelson Eddy ! (His great-
est role since "Naughty
Marietta".)

ILONA MASSEY

CHARLIE

RUGGLES • MORGAN • ATWILL

C. AUBREY JOYCE

SMITH • COMPTON

Screen Play by Leon Gordon,
Charles Bennett and Jacques Deval
Based upon the Play "Balalaika"
Book and Lyrics by Eric Maschwitz

Music by George Posford and
Bernard Grun

Directed by Reinhold Schunzel
Produced by Lawrence Weingarten
AN M-G-M PICTURE

DEC -9 1939

©C1B 436768

JANUARY, 1940
Vol. 29 No. 1

Hollywood

icornoralino SCREEN LIE

W. H. FAWCETT
. Publisher

incorporating

SCREEN LIFE

(ReE. U. S. Pat. Off.)

LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor

Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

You'd Hate Being a Star 12

When the Christmas Tree Fell Over by Charles Daggett 14

Rhapsody in Green (Geraldine Fitzgerald) by Wilbur Morse, Jr. 1 8

Forecasts for I940 by Helen Hover 20

A Puppet Comes to Life (Pinocchio) by Winifred Aydelotte 22

Her Heart Belongs to Hollywood (Mary Martin)

by John R. Franchey 26

Baby Takes a Bow (Another Thin Man) by Emily Norris 28

Art for Artie's Sake (Artie Shaw) by Jack Mosher 30

On "The Blue Bird" Set by Jessie Henderson 34

Second Generation by Kolma Flake 36

Santa Is a Headache by Edward Churchill 38

Everything Happens At Night by E. J. Smithson 41

PICTORIAL FEATURES

Holiday Spirit (Roland Young and Pat O'Brien) 19

Wedding Bells of I939 24

How to Become a Swimmer (Marjorie Weaver) 3!

Canadian Cousins 32

Family Album (Nona Massey) 40

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Elmer Sunfield 6

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 10

The Show Goes On by the Editor 16

Beauty Budget Gifts by Ann Vernon 42

Movie Crossword 52

"Snacks" for Your Holidays by Betty Crocker 58

CONTEST NEWS 1 7

Leap Year is something for Mickey Rooney to
get dreamy about. He plays next in the title
role of M-G-M's picture, Young Thomas Edison

RALPH DAIGH, Managing Editor

GORDON FAWCETT, Hollywood Manager

CHARLES RHODES, Staff Photographer

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc., 1100 West Broadway, Louisville. Kv. Entered as second class matter at the post office at Louisville,
Ivy., under the act of March 3, 1879, with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 1930 by Fawcett Publications, Inc. W. H. Fawcett, Publisher; Elliott Odell, Advertising
Director. General offices, Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Trademark registered in U. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and possessions
and Canada; foreign subscription $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich, Conn. Single
issues five cents. Advertising forms close on the ISth of third month preceding date of issue. Printed in U. S. A. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and
correspondence concerning subscriptions to Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Advertising offices: New York, 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 360 N. Michigan Ave.; San Francisco, Simpson-
Beilly, 1014' Russ Building; Los Angeles, Simpson-Reilly, Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

IZMHT/IOlOKIiVflclH*

By ELMER SUNFIELD

■ While in Europe, Cary Grant joined
automobile clubs in England, France,
Italy, and Belgium. When he returned to
the United States, he placed the insignia of
the various clubs on the front of his car.
During rehearsals for the first Gulf Screen
Guild Theatre radio show, souvenir hunt-
ing fans stripped them from his coupe
while it was parked in the rear of the
theatre. He's willing to pay twenty
dollars for the return of each insignia—
and no questions asked.

| Credit Actor Brian Donlevy with the
biggest patriotic gesture by a Holly-
wood star since the war started. Brian
has turned over to the United States
government all mineral rights to a rich
antimony mine, discovered recently on his
property in Death Valley.

Donlevy, who has made gold and silver
mining a hobby the past few years, said
experts from the Federal Bureau of Mines
told him that antimony is one of the rarest
substances in nature, and is invaluable in
munitions manufacture.

The discovery was kept secret by Don-
levy until he was sure that the govern-
ment could use the mineral.

H The romance between Virginia Field
and Richard Greene is the talk of the
town. Virginia's latest affectionate gesture
is to come on the set directly after lunch
and start Dick off on his afternoon acting
chores with a big hug and a bigger kiss
that wins deep sighs from the prop boys,
juicers, carpenters and a score of others
on the sidelines. Maybe it's an act, but
Dick seems to like it — as who wouldn't!

■ We understand that Warner Brothers
Studio has put John Garfield smack

into the doghouse following his bitter
complaint that he has been typed. And
in this instance the doghouse treatment
has been severe. Garfield is suspended
without pay. John is tired, he says, of
playing neurotic roles as in Four
Daughters and others that followed, and
threatens to return to the stage unless
he receives better parts.

■ Clark Gable, Carole Lombard, and

other screen celebrities, who are
members of Encino's "Hard Rock Club,"

Oren Haglund and Priscilla Lane at
the" preview of he"f newest picture,
The Roaring Twenties in Hollywood

All set for that Rose Bowl Game is
Baby Sandy, complete with megaphone
and cheer leader's cap. Her latest
screen part is in hit tie Accident

are within weeks of becoming oil
magnates. A short time ago, oil was dis-
covered two miles west of the property
and hundreds of barrels were produced.
Now oil has been discovered on the Club's
land, and before long the club members
will be rolling out the barrels.

The club started when a group of stars,
Valley residents, wanted a week-end
lodge for skeet shooting and riding, and
purchased 160 acres in the nearby hills
for the resort.

P. S. The club's name is derived from
the stony nature of the soil.

H The mystery of the brown paper bag
Lew Ayres carries around with him
while on a picture has been solved. The
other day it burst, spilling shaving soap,
brush, greasepaint and other odds and
ends usually carried in a make-up kit.

Although Lew has half a dozen de luxe
make-up kits, he has never used one of

them. The first time he was called to a
studio for a picture, he hurriedly filled
a paper bag with make-up. Ever since,
he has .figured that a paper bag brings
him luck.

Lew claims that a paper bag will last
through three pictures. "I tried to stretch
the last one to four pictures. That's what
caused the accident. Anyhow, this proves
that I don't carry my lunch to the studio
in a paper bag."

■ Ed Brophy, playing the part of Ryan,
a not-quite-bright operative of the
Federal Bureau of Investigation in Philo
Vance Conies Back has this to say about
his screen life:

"This is the 16th time I've been cast
as a dumb dick in pictures. But I've been
promoted. Hitherto I've been simply
dumb in a local way — as a city police
sergeant, or a county constable, or a wit-
less stooge for a private detective office.
But now I'm a secret service man in a
plot which involves several of the most
important countries of the world."

What Ed means by this is that he's now
dumb internationally!

H We got to jabbering with a film editor

not long since. For some unexplained

reason we hit upon the subject of kissing,

particularly screen kissing, and were

positively amazed by what we learned.

We learned, for instance, that kisses

come by the foot these days in the movies.

When Bette Davis accepted Errol Flynn's

first kiss in their latest starring picture,

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex,

it was an introductory osculation only 15

[Continued on page 53]

Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, Bonita
Granville and Bobs Watson on the
way to the premiere of Babes in Anns

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Gabby,
the town a

iL/augh till your sides ache at the antics of
Gabby, the town crier, the little fellow who
discovered the giant Gulliver but couldn't
find himself in the dark.

iVleet King Little and his terrible tempered rival, King
Bombo. Meet the charming Princess Glory and her brave
lover, Prince David . . . hear them sing their love songs,
"Forever" and "Faithful."

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Meet them all

laugh with the

with them eight never-to-be-forgotten

Leo Robin and Ralph Rainger songs: "Faithful Forever," "Bluebirds
in the Moonlight," "I Hear a Dream,'' "It's a Hap-Hap-Happy Day,"*
"All's Well," "We're All Together Now," "Faithful," "Forever."

PRODUCED BY MAX FLEISCHER •DIRECTED BY DAVE Fl

* "IT'S A HAP-HAP-HAPPY DAY"-Words ami Music by Al. J. NeibarB and Sa

j Timberg & Winston Sharpies

IP*

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AND A VERY |ARY "(UUmH)

™ Hum in love wn«

#."

• THE GREAT MARY (My Heart
Belongs to Daddy") MARTIN ... as the
singing sweetheart of Victor Herbert's
Broadway. . . Allan Jones, as the star who
means it when he sings "Kiss Me Again"
to Mary . . . The Great Victor Herbert's
most familiar melodies as the glorious
background for a love story^^ roman-
tic as yesterday, as real as |bdav.

•\#l

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%%&&

A Paramount Pi

Ji{-*

Allan Jones • Mary Martin • Walter Connolly

Lee Bowman • Julith Barrett ■ Susanna Foster • Produced and Directed by andrew l. stone

Screen Play by Russ\l Crouse and Robert Lively • Based on a story by Robert Lively and Andrew L. Stone

IiSi:Mrt#^fcaaMiiJrt«

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

THAT THEY MAY LIVE—
For ester-Par ant

This picture was finished in France
just before war was declared. At that
time the producers and the actors and
indeed the whole nation hoped that once
again war might be averted. But, by the
time the picture was ready for release,
France was mobilizing, and it wasn't
possible to show the film. We are more
fortunate in this country. The film is
available to us, and every thoughtful
person will do well to listen to its power-
fully stated protest against all war.

The opening scenes show soldiers in
front line trenches. The last war is near-
ing its end, but how can they know that?
For years they have lived in wretched,
muddy, freezing dugouts. For years they
have seen death on all sides of them. For
years they have done the next thing de-
manded of them. A patrol of twelve men
must be chosen for a duty that means
certain death. And to certain death they
do go, all of them, except one man. He is
brought in, wounded, just as the news
of the armistice is sounded. Of all the men
in the doomed patrol, he was the one who
believed that another war never could
happen. "This one is too horrible," he
argued. "Now that we know what war
can be, there never will be another. The
world could not face this again. I am only
one man, but I promise you that my whole
life will be devoted to seeing that there
never is another war. I promise you it
won't happen again."

For the next twenty years, all of his
hours were spent in research. His lab-
oratory produced materials never heard
of before . . . transparent steel, unbreak-
able metals . . . many things to be turned
to the uses of peace. About his experi-
ments in the military cemetery he did not

Boris Karloff went berserk when he
had to have his head shaved for his
part in Toiver of London and tried
some horror-man stuff on Jack Pierce,
creator of the Karloff fright make-ups

speak. Not until a munitions-maker
turned his transparent steel into armor,
not until war was declared again did he
turn his greatest discovery of all to
account.

The first of the film may seem to Amer-
ican audiences a little over-acted, a little
over-sentimentalized but no one can deny
the power of the closing scenes when in
anguished protest over the useless deaths
of his comrades and their nine million
fellow-dead, he returns to the white
crosses that cover acre after acre at Ver-
dun, and calls to the French who died so
long ago, to the Americans, to the Rus-
sians, to the British, Slavs and the Italians,
to the German dead, to those who died at
sea and those who died in the air, to every
man who fought the last war in pitiful
sacrifice to end all wars. He calls and the
white crosses fade away. He calls and the
ground stirs. He calls and wearily the
figures of the dead rise for one more bat-
tle. French and German, British and
American, men of all nations, now long
past hatred, help each other to rise and
walk the streets. They jam the roadways,
they fill the towns. Millions and millions
who died once for their countries come
back so that their presence may save their
fellow men.

This film may not have very wide dis-
tribution. It should have. Pierre van
Paassen's subtitles make the French dia-
logue easily understandable to all Amer-
ican audiences. Victor Francen's playing
of the central character makes the theme
understandable to all men who hate the
waste of war. If you want to see this film,
your local theatre manager will know
where it is showing or will arrange book-
ing for it in his theatre.

FIRST LOVE — Universal

H Dear Cinderella! At long last the
movies frankly acknowledge their
debt to you. At long last they make your
story without caitiff evasion or elaborate
disguise. At long last you come into your
own stream-lined 1940 version, just as
good as ever.

True, Connie (Deanna Durbin) does
not have mean sisters, but she has the most
unpleasant set of cousins ever filmed by
Universal, and most people will acknow-
ledge that cousins in Universal films are
just about tops in uncouth manners and
bad taste.

Connie's cousins don't come to her grad-
uation. They leave her alone while they
go off to a dazzling party on her first night
home. They won't listen to her sing. They
do not introduce her to their friends. They
let her go around in her simple old school
clothes. Even the butler is chill and
displeased.

Gradually Connie wins over the house-
staff. After two operatic numbers they
are taking up a collection in the kitchen
in order to buy her a new dress to wear
to the ball. Oh, it is a tense moment when

Connie is ordered to stay at home. Oh,
it is a breath-holding time when the
chauffeur winks at the butler, and the
butler tells Connie that she is going to the
ball but that she must not stay a minute
after midnight. But you know that every-
thing is going to be all right when the
friendly cop turns up, not with six white
mice, it is true, but with six motorcycle
cops on six white motorcycles. It is all
there . . . the lost slipper, the flight after
midnight, the prince charming, the happy
ending. It is mighty unrealistic but it is
mighty refreshing.

Assorted mean cousins, fairy-god-
mothers and members of the court are
played by Helen Parrish, Robert Stack,
Eugene Pallette, Lewis Howard, Leatrice
Joy, June Storey, Charles Coleman, Marcia
Mae Jones, Samuel S. Hinds, Kathleen
Howard, Jack Mulhall, Mary Treen, Dor-
othy Vaughn, Frank Jenks and Lucille
"Ward.

NINOTCHKA — M-G-M

I Those who have followed the history
of the United States of Soviet Russia
with respectful admiration are not going to
like this film, because the government of
Stalin is treated with less . . . with much
less than serious regard. If the film indus-
try had not recently treated our own
government with somewhat the same
light-hearted humor in Mr. Smith Goes to
Washington, perhaps a cry of "No fair!"
would be in order. But, since the bright
blades of farce and satire have been swung
in a good many quarters lately, there is no
reason to suppose that Russia can't take it
just as imperturbably as can the United
States of America. And, no matter what
you think about the wisdom of poking fu;r
at another powerful nation, you will have
to admit that the film is enchanting farca
and telling satire.

Just to keep in character when not before
the cameras, Robert Preston and Dorothy
Lamour play South Sea checkers on the
Typhoon location at Catalina Island

Greta Garbo strides into the picture
first on flat heels as Ninotchka, dour, se-
vere, painfully glum and literal Envoy
Extraordinary who has been dispatched
from Moscow to investigate the delay in
the sale of the Grand Duchess Swana's
confiscated jewels in Paris.

The negotiations had been started in a
feeble fashion by three gentlemen whose
antic reaction to a bourgeois society make
them worthy to be called the three (Karl)
Marx Brothers. They did not approve of
a democratic government, of course, but
once in Paris they felt it their duty to
investigate conditions. They started with
the working conditions of the cigarette
girls.

Melvyn Douglas as Leon, friend of the
Grand Duchess (Ina Claire) already was
deep in a plot to recover the jewels when
Ninotchka arrived. Not until he had been
fascinated by her rude contempt for the
pretty fencing of romance did he discover
that it was her business to defeat him.

Garbo is by far the most amusing in the
first part of the film in severe clothes and
chilly mood. That part is packed with
laughs. Later, when she is all dressed up
in a singularly unbecoming and ineffec-
tually fluffy white and gold gown, the film
becomes just another screen love story
for a while. The cast is splendid, Ernst
Lubitsch's direction just as deft and re-
sourceful as ever, and the dialogue is
sharp as a cactus but much funnier.

SEVENTEEN — Paramount

\ Betty Fields and Jackie Cooper, who

made such a success of What a Life,

are together again with Jackie playing the

passionately seventeen, Willie Baxter and

Betty as the baby-talk lady.

The whole story is there, very much as
Booth Tarkington wrote it. Ann Shoe-
maker plays the loving, rather elderly
Mrs. Baxter. Otto Kruger plays the de-
voted but understandably irritated Mr.
Baxter. Thomas Ross plays the franti-
cally furious Mr. Parcher.

The story has been carefully brought up
to 1940, in every little detail, but somehow
it dates as a tale of the past. The characters
remain Tarkington types, rather than
people, «and the film is vaguely not so
funny as it should be. This is not the fault
of the excellent actors.

THE ROARING TWENTIES — Warners

■ All of you who have liked James
Cagney for his bounce and vigor but
who considered him a rather limited actor
should make an especial effort to see this
film. He gives his expected rough and
tumble performance in the first part which
deals with the adventures of two young
men returned from France after the war.
One (Jeffrey Lynn) studies hard and
becomes an attorney. The other (Cagney)
finds excitement and big money in boot-
legging. Both fall in love with Priscilla
Lane. There is plenty of excitement in the
first part, but you will have a new respect
for Cagney when you see his performance
at the end as the uncertain, broken former
big-shot.

Which Soap Gives Your Shin

THE FRAGRANCE MEN LOVE?

Before you use any soap to combat body odor, smell
the soap! Instinctively you will choose Cashmere Bouquet
Soap, for its fragrance appeals to the senses of men

AM AN loves with all five senses, and smart
girls — those serenely confident females
who seem to conquer men almost without
trying — are fastidious about the fragrance of
their bath soap.

How confident and carefree you can feel
when your skin suggests a breath of romance.
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You'd Hate Being a Star

■ Yes, I have beautiful clothes. And I
know famous people. And I make a
lot of money. I have a lovely house and
my car is paid for. I have some lovely
jewels, and if I take a fancy to a new fur
coat, I can buy it without worrying about
the mortgage. But, just the same, you are
luckier than I am, most of you, and hap-
pier and more serene. Certainly I go on
some lovely trips between pictures, but,
taking it hour by hour and day by day,
you'd hate to be a star!

Think I'm crazy, don't you? Think I'm
talking through my hat! All right, here
are a few questions for you. Take this
little test — answer truthfully — and see if
you come out on top.

Can You Take Orders?

S You're pretty — you're the pet of the
family. But on a studio sound stage
you're just "another cute doll" — until you
get to the top. How do you answer when
somebody yells "Hey — you!" How would

Impassioned is this plaint of
an actress so famous that she
has asked ns to withhold her
name from this inside tale of
the woes of movie stardom

you feel when the director hurls sarcasm
at you? Do you sulk? Do you cry? You
can't do that and keep your job. No,
Ma'am! Do you get mad and answer back?
Nothing doing there, either. Lots of pretty
girls to take your place. Prettier than
you, maybe. You have to learn to take it
on the chin on the way up. At the top
— it's worse! If you're a star the sar-
casm is doubly vindictive — you're a Big
Shot — you're not supposed to make mis-
takes. How would you feel as star of
a picture if the director yelled through
the loudspeaker system, "The bit play-
ers will show you how to act that scene,
Miss Glamour!" And everybody laughed.
Would you laugh, too? Would you try
again? I've heard those very words used
on a star of the highest rank — and she
took it. Would you?

Do You Like to Get
Up Early in. the
Morning?

| Think hard before

you answer this,

because no star likes

to get up; but studio

calls mean five-thirty

under the shower,

and nine o'clock on

the set — dressed, made-up and ready for

the camera. How would you like to have

your hair washed and dressed at six a. m.

when you're half asleep and longing for

bed? How would you like to climb into an

intricate evening gown at seven of a foggy

morning — feeling silly and trying to look

glamorous?

Do you take hours to "get awake?" You
can't do that in pictures. The camera reg-
isters sleepy eyes and dark shadows under
them even though make-up can hide the
worst of it. Would you enjoy walking
onto a cold sound stage in a backless
evening dress at seven a. m. with a
lot of equally sleepy people and try-
ing to register emotion vividly when

the shivers are running down your spine?
Does that sound like fun? It doesn't?
It isn't!

Are You Moody?

■ Do you feel as though the end of the
world were at hand sometimes. As

though you wanted to run and hide or
scream or cry your eyes out? Of course
you have. Women feel that way often.
And show it sometimes. In pictures (if
you're a star) you hide that temperament,
or somebody else gets that leading role
you want — next time. Sure, there was a
time when temperament was played up,
but no more. Making movies is a highly
competitive business. Tears and tantrums
run up a shooting schedule — and the pro-
ducer's temperature. There is no room
for temperament these days. You take an
aspirin for that screaming headache and
go on working — under lights that burn
into your head like steel rods. Does that
entice you?

Are Your Eyes Strong?

■ That's a funny question, isn't it? But
eyes are important to stars. Eyes

that get red and weepy under strong lights
don't belong in pictures. You are under a
merciless glare all the time you are work-
ing. If it's a Technicolor picture the lights
are blinding. A few minutes under these
lights and you can't see for a whole min-
ute after you walk into the gloom of the
rest of the stage. You get headaches —
you get eye strain — and you have to go
on. It's a million dollar production at
least — and you have to "take it" or get
out. Would you take it?

Is Your Memory Keen?

S Now you're going to say: "What if it
isn't? Only a few lines are spoken at
a time. I can remember those."

Oh, lady, it isn't just the lines. Suppose
your part of the script calls for you to
say: "Oh, John, look at these flowers. I
know Jim sent them." You can remember
that easily, can't you? Okay — you're on
the set. The director calls for a rehearsal.
You have to walk across stage right, go up
to the flowers, turn back, greet John with
a nod when he comes in, cross to left and
stand by the little table where John waits
and speak your piece. Then you must
remember a certain gesture just at that
time — a shrug — and you walk back to the
flowers thoughtfully, and pause, looking
back questioningly at John, who advances.
There — one dialogue bit! It isn't just the
words that throw you, it's remembering
the wealth of detail regarding the stage
business, and the gestures.

Can you walk up to a chalk mark on
the floor without looking down, and stop
on it, facing the camera all the while? Can
you walk up for a close-up and stop fac-
ing the camera at a bit of wood nailed to

the floor? These are only used when a
three-quarter shot is needed, or a close-up.
But they are a hazard. They mark the
camera focusing length, but they may also
mark your length on the floor the first time
you try it. See if you can do it at home!
I dare you!

Do You Like Night Life?

| You're gay. You're full of fun. You
want all that glamour has to offer.
Just what does it offer to the fullblown
star? When a picture is shooting you
have to be at the studio at seven. If you're
to go on location, you arrive at five-thirty.

How much night life do you think you
could stand, when you have to arise at
such hours? I'll tell you how much —
none! You'll fall into bed the minute you
get home — with a glass of hot milk. You'll
want to sleep for years, but you'll get up
at five o'clock just the same. You'd rather
have a Scotch-and-soda before going to
bed? Oh, you would! You'll drink milk
and like it, lady. Liquor has a bad habit
of showing up next morning on your face.
Dark circles under eyes and lines in faces
tell their own story. Your make-up man
will scold you, and the camera will surely
find you out. No, you're a star and you
know darn well you can't see any bright
lights other than those of the studio sound-
stage until the picture is finished.

I know what you'll say to that. When
the picture is finished you're going to
take a good long rest and do just what you

want. Oh, you are? The studio requests
that you be present at the preview. Of
course, you've seen the picture. You're
the star, aren't you? And you've seen
the daily rushes ever since the picture
started. Sure, but you haven't had a pub-
lic reaction yet. And your public has to
see you at the preview. You must dress
up, arrive on time and let yourself be
mobbed by autograph hunters. And that
isn't all. You'll see it again at the pre-
miere. The studio chiefs have a funny
way of requesting your presence there,
too. So you sit through it again. You
won't like seeing yourself on the screen
by that time. Ask any star about seeing
his own pictures, and he shudders with
real distaste. Know why? You'll see
mistakes you've made, scenes that turn
you cold, places where you photographed

badly, scenes you dread. I've seen stars
tear handkerchiefs into bits, watching
themselves on the screen. I've seen them
take seats as far from the producer as they
could — dreading the time when he might
say: "Hedy Lamarr could have put that
scene in her pocket. Gilda Glamour
doesn't do the lines justice." Oh, it's fun
being a star — it's grand — and you'll wish
you were dead a million times a day!

Are You Nice to People ?

E| What a question! Of course you're
nice to people. You love your mother,
your family, your friends. Ah! But how
about being "ordered" to be nice to peo-
ple? Strangers? Can you do that? Can
you stand calmly in the middle of a push-
ing group of kids and sign autographs and
[Continued on page 64]

NEXT MONTH

Don't miss our favorite extra's report on his adventures when he
worked in The Grapes of Wrath, most discussed picture of the
season . . . Wilbur Morse, Jr., gives you an inside report on
Sonja Henie's home in Norway . . . Kay Proctor, David Niven
and Charles Rhodes pooled their brilliant talents to give you
lowdown on How to Be a Villain. A good issue, on sale Decem-
ber 10.

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When the Christmas Tree

Some stars remember, more
in sorrow than anger, the
times that [St. Nick tripped
over his long white beard

By CHARLES DAGGETT

| Christmas should be a time of joyous
laughter, of carefree celebration, of
blithe merrymaking, and it usually is.
Christmas in Hollywood is no exception,
but, once in a while, Santa Claus gets his
signals mixed. Once in a while, the chimes
ring out with a sour note. And the stars,
even as you and I, remember certain
Christmases that were more merry-go-
round than merry.

Bing Crosby winces when the memory
of one Christmas day returns. All night
long he had worked, draping tinsel, at-
taching decorations, arranging presents to
delight the hearts of his little ones. Came
the dawn, and Bing still was wearily at
work putting the final touches on the
tree, sustained only by the thought of the
delight of his little brood when they saw
papa's handiwork. Everything was done
at last. Only the star for the very top of
the tree remained. Bing climbed the step-
ladder, reached over, attached the star,
drew a sigh of relief . . . and then the step-
ladder slipped. Down came Bing, ladder,
presents, tree and star. The little Crosbys,
roused by the crash, dashed into the room
just as the maid handed Bing the first
telegram of the day.

It was from Bob Burns. Bing thinks
that maybe Bob consulted a crystal gazer
who advised the comedian to send that
particular message at that particular mo-
ment. Bob swears that the telegraph com-
pany made a typographical error. The
telegram said, WISHING YOU A MESSY
CHRISTMAS.

9 They have called it "The Boulevard
of Broken Dreams." They have called
it "Heartbreak Lane," and "The Street of
Broken Promises," and "Chiseler's Row."
Those and a score of other names have
been given to Hollywood Boulevard, that
glittering right-of-way down which tread
the cinema ghosts of yesterday, and up
which go marching the screen great of
today and tomorrow.

But at Yuletide, when cynics have to
take seats in the back row, when the little
ones and the young in heart utter cries of
worship for Old St. Nick, Hollywood
Boulevard becomes "Santa Claus Lane."

For several nights before Christmas the

Fell Over

street is ablaze with lights and somewhat
gaudy tinsel. Festoons of greenery and
little tin trees decorate the light poles.
Mama, little sister, big sister, Junior and
Papa walk bug-eyed before bursting store
windows. Every night a different film star
leads a parade with Santa Claus. It is of
little importance that Papa emerges with
a battered bankroll. The merchants have
a field day.

It was on one of the nights when the
lights were brightest — Christmas Eve, to
be exact — that William Powell set out for
a dinner party at the home of Madelynne
Field. "Fieldsie" was secretary and com-
panion to Carole Lombard until that young
lady broke a million hearts by accom-
panying Clark Gable, Hollywood's most
eligible bundle of catnip, to the altar.

To get there, Powell had to cross "Santa
Claus Lane." Now, at this season, it is im-
possible to drive across the thoroughfare.
All traffic is stopped. Thousands turn out
to watch the parade and cheer for the star
who rides with Santa Claus on the band-
wagon.

Bill confesses, in telling this story, that
he had a nice, pleasant feeling just at the
moment from a couple of egg-nogs his
valet had mixed while he was dressing.
Otherwise he would never have dreamed
of braving the Boulevard crowd. His idea
was to leave his own car, walk through
the thousands assembled for the parade,
get to the other side of the street, call a
taxi and arrive at Fieldsie's in time for
dinner.

The egg-nog and the anticipation. of the
fine dinner Fieldsie had promised made
Bill quite forget that he was togged out
in a manner to make him about as con-
spicuous as an escaped convict in prison
stripes running down Main Street.

"As a matter of fact," Bill grins in telling
the story, "I wish I had been a convict.
Then the cops would have rescued me
from my predicament and clapped me
into jail.

"Somehow, I pushed my way through
the crowd and ducked under the rope
which held the people back from the
street where the parade was to come.
I got out on the pavement, right in the
middle of the street car tracks, just as the
float with Santa Claus approached. Then
the people saw me. I had on tails, a white
tie and a top hat."

A roar of recognition came from the
fans lining either side of the street. Once
they had recognized him Bill knew that
he could never get through the mob to

that taxi and Fieldsie's. This was no time
for a joust with autograph-seekers. A few
yards behind him came the parade. In
front of him stretched the street, roped
off, guarded by Hollywood's finest, free
of people, offering an avenue of escape.

"I was never so bewildered in my life,"
Bill says. "Everybody thought I was an
extra added attraction. I couldn't have
squirmed through that crowd if my life
depended upon it. So I just led the parade.
I saw a big jeweler's clock and it was a
quarter of six. I had to be at Fieldsie's by
six, but I was trapped. There was only
one way out where the crowd ended a
mile away."

Dinner clothes were not made for cross-
country hiking and Bill says he was a
pretty sorry figure by the time he got to
the end of the line.

"All in all," he says, "it was a pretty
harrowing experience and you can't blame
me if I wanted a couple of egg-nogs before
jaunting merrily on to Fieldsie's. The last
I remember was sitting at a bar, wonder-
ing who that queer looking guy was with
the top hat on. I could see him in the
mirror."

Fieldsie can give you the rest of the
details. Everybody wondered where Bill
was. She telephoned his house. He'd left.
They decided to have their turkey, Powell
or no Powell.

Next morning, as dawn began to break
—as it can break only in Hollywood at
Christmas, rosy, bland and warm — there
was a terrible clattering at the door.
Fieldsie dashed downstairs.

There stood Bill, top hat and all. He
bowed gallantly. " 'Fraid I'm a little late,"
he began. Then his eyes fell on the grand-
father's clock in the hall. He peered up at
its old face and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just six o'clock. "Good," said the
polished Mr. Powell. "Just on time!
Well, lovely party. Sorry to be the last
to leave."

Helpless with laughter, Fieldsie saw him
climb back into the taxi in the drive.

"That's the way they tell it, anyway,"
Bill said. "And you can bet that's one
Christmas I won't forget. No more egg-
nog for me!"

B Clark Gable, who had been at Field-
sie's party with Carole Lombard (this
was the first year they had discovered
each other) , slept well into the morning.
He had sent his lady love an appropriate
gift, and when he arose he waited for her
ecstatic telephone call. Secretly, he was

also eager to see his own present from
Carole.

The first gifts of sweethearts are always
the tenderest, the most elaborate and
sentimental. Gable's was. As he walked
about, happy, sappy, in love, he came
across an unexpected sight on his front
lawn.

There stood a forlorn heifer. None of
the neighbors had cows. They are not a
common sight in swanky Beverly Hills.
This cow wore a dejected look. About her
neck was a frivolous ribbon, quite out of
tone with the animal's lugubrious de-
meanor. Attached to the ribbon was a
card:

"Merry Christmas

From Carole."

That was about the saddest Christmas
Gable ever spent. At least until his love
telephoned and a messenger brought him
Carole's real gift, elaborately and appro-
priately sentimental.

| The year of 1937 was Broderick
Crawford's first Christmas Eve in
Hollywood for many years. Although his
parents, Helen Broderick and Lester
Crawford, had their home in the film
capital, "Brod" had been battling for a
stage career in New York.

That New York business was pretty
tough. "Brod" was too proud to holler for
help from his mother and father and some-
times he had to go hungry. The three pre-
vious Christmas Eves had been dreary
affairs. One had been spent on a ship,
aboard which Crawford had shipped as
a steward. The next two were wasted
away, without any trimmings at all, in
New York with a group of friends. Every-
body was broke and making the most
of a delicatessen feast of cold meats
and beer.

This Christmas of 1937 was to be a
different one, however. Hollywood, or
rather Samuel Goldwyn, had discovered
Crawford and he had been given his first
screen role as the comedy butler in Woman
Chases Man. Along with that job went the
sizeable sum of money paid by the studio
for his services.

Some of his friends with whom he had
spent the gay, but almost foodless holidays
in New York had, meanwhile, also mi-
grated to Hollywood. For them and sev-
eral others "Brod" decided to have a gala

evening — the first big blowout of an up-
and-coming young film actor. It was to be
the real thing — champagne, caviar, roast
turkeys, everything and anything that
contrasted with the Christmas Eve of the
year before.

With all arrangements completed and
the guests invited, Crawford, who had
been working steadily through the hectic
holiday period, decided to freshen up on
the day of the party with a Turkish bath
and a rubdown.

' .There's nothing like relaxation," mur-
mured the quickly relaxing Broderick
as he dropped off for his forty winks
after the bath and the soothing mas-
sage.

Crawford opened his eyes a short while
later — just nine hours later, to be exact —
at 4 a. m. Christmas morning.

Hastily grabbing his clothes, he rushed
to his house. Some late departing guests
assured him it had been a swell party and that every-
body had a wonderful time.

When Christmas morning dawned and the first rays
of light sneaked into the Crawford kitchen, they found
Broderick greeting the day formally in company with
the cook, one milkman and two cats.

E To get back to "Santa Claus Lane" and the merry,
merry Yuletide shopping season, there was that
time Marie Wilson entered a knitting goods store and
asked for instructions on knitting a sweater.

"Is it for a man?" the salesgirl asked.

"No."

"Well, what size does she wear?"

"Oh, it isn't a she — it's a he."

"Sorry." The salesgirl was apologetic. "I thought
you said it wasn't for a man."

"It isn't — it's for a dog." __

"How big is the dog?"

Marie made a lot of gestures with her hands.

"Maybe you'd better bring him in," said the girl.

"Oh, I can't," was Marie's answer. "It's to be a
surprise!"

Pi And speaking of surprises, embarrassing moments
and ghastly memories, there was that Christmas
Eve, several years ago when William Gargan's son,
Barry, was just three years old, big-eyed and filled
with wonder. The age of three, if you'll remember,
is just the proper stage of life at which to really appre-
ciate Christmas.

Knowing that, Bill didn't see any reason why the
appearance of Santa Claus had to be delayed until
Christmas morning. The same thought, unfortunately,

had also struck Leslie Howard, who lived
near the Gargans and wanted to give
Barry the surprise of his life. Leslie
didn't know that Bill had changed the
hour for the appearance of Santa Claus.

Barry's bedtime was six o'clock. Just
before that hour Howard, who had never
played Santa Claus before, pushed open
the front door and strolled into the Gargan
living room. There, to his horror, was a
rival Santa Claus — the other St. Nicholas
being Gargan, who had just sneaked in
from the back way!

Barry's about ten now and slightly
suspicious of the Santa Claus myth, but
very vividly in his memory — and in
those of Father William and Neighbor
Leslie, for that matter — is the Christ-
mas Eve when two Santa Clauses came
to see him. [Continued on page 60]

Bill Powell learned a
distrust of parades

Dotty Lamour recalls
a dinnerless dinner

Bing Crosby jumps at
the cry of "Timber I"

They still quote
Marie Wilson's gag

Brod Crawford
has a safe retreat

Claudette Colbert
appreciates quiet

David Niven
played l/i of Santa

Carole Lombard
surprised Gable.

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By THE EDITOR

■ Almost the last thing we saw when
we left Hollywood two years ago was a fat
little girl waving a handkerchief covered
with a violent design of printed flowers.
Little Jane Withers was at the airport to
do a special broadcast, and, when she was
brought over to say "Goodbye," she had
the handkerchief out and ready for wav-
ing. "Goodbye," she called. "I hope I get
to see you in New York!"

It took a little time, but last week a con-
siderably taller and far from fat young
lady took us to tea at the Waldorf-Astoria
in New York. At thirteen and a half, little
Miss Withers cuts a pretty dashing figure
of what the well-dressed younger set is
wearing. Her brown velveteen skirt was
topped with a plaid jacket, and no sooner
were we seated at the table than a hand-
kerchief was whipped out of a pocket and
spread out for inspection. It was some-
what quieter in color than the one which
had been waved at us two years ago, but
it still was a handkerchief you wouldn't
forget. Appliqued in one corner was the
figure of a little girl. What made it really
different was a little sash that really tied,
and eyelids, complete with embroidered
eyelashes, that lifted up over blue eyes.

"Isn't it silly?" said Jane. "I love it.
I'm still just as crazy about handker-
chiefs as ever . . . almost as much in love
with them as I am with cooking. I'm hav-
ing a wonderful time, but I just can't
wait to get back to see my little kitchen."

This Christmas, Jane is to have what
every little girl dreams of. She is to have

a little soda fountain and a little kitchen
all of her own. The soda fountain is the
smallest that they build; but it has four
spigots for syrups, and Jane feels con-
fident that no one will criticise her sun-
daes so long as she keeps chocolate in all
four compartments.

"I more or less specialize in chocolate,"
she said, and went into detail about the
extra rich chocolate cake with chocolate
frosting that she built by combining two
different recipes just before she left
Hollywood. ,

"She really does love to fuss around the
kitchen," explained Mrs. Withers. "And
she has been collecting recipes for two
years, so this isn't just a fad. That is why
we are giving her a little kitchen of her
own. She makes a lot of the things for her
parties."

By the time Jane had described three
different kinds of cookies, the especial
recipe that she uses for fudge, and the
way she builds her "barber-pole" sand-
wich, we had a fine idea.

"Would you like to design a perfect
party, complete with your recipes, for
HOLLYWOOD Magazine?" we asked her.

So, in a very early issue, you will find
pictures of Jane's kitchen, a menu for a
party that she will give when it is her turn
to entertain her club, and recipes for each
dish.

fl We have a goodly list of especial fea-
tures ready for the first months of
this year. Jessie Henderson, who tells

Jane Withers' next picture, High School, calls for a singing lesson with the assistance
of Luis Alberni. Undoubtedly, Jane is getting ready to match songs with Gene
Autry with whom she is to make Jubilo. You will see it shortly after Christinas

you all about the filming of The Blue Bird
on page 34, had luncheon the other day
with the Siviss Family Robinson in their
tree house. True, their desert island is
within easy walking distance of the park-
ing space at RKO-Radio Studios, but it
was all so realistic that Miss Henderson
claims that she went home and built a
fire in her fireplace by rubbing two sticks
together, having forgotten completely that
there were matches on the shelf. She
learned many other equally useful things,
had a very good lunch, and now is so fas-
cinated by life on desert islands that she
is practicing to be quite independent of
the machine age, just in case. We won't be
in the least surprised if the story comes
in on paper beaten out by Miss Hender-
son's own hands from bamboo leaves, and
written in ink made from some left-over
Thanksgiving cranberries.

| Our favorite extra, the long-suffer-
ing Mr. E. J. Smithson, was one of
the very few people fortunate enough to
be admitted to The Grapes of Wrath set
while that picture was being made, and
it is sad to report that he had almost as
much trouble as the whole Joad family
put together. We feel terribly sorry for
him, but you will agree that he suffered
in a noble cause when you read his story
next month on the filming of the most
discussed book of the year.

| Wilbur Morse, Jr. traveled all the

way to Norway for a story on Sonja

Henie, and brought back a report of the

way she lives in Oslo which is just as
colorful as his interview with Geraldine
Fitzgerald which you will find on page 18.
King Zog arrived in Oslo at the same time
that Mr. Morse did, and the newspapers
interviewed them both. King Zog got the
bigger picture, but Mr. Morse got three

CONTEST NEWS

As this issue goes to press, the first en-
tries in our big Gone With the Wind
Contest are coming in, and already are
piling high on the big desk in the cor-
ner. Ricarde of Hollywood, who de-
signed the modern versions of antique
jewelry worn in Gone With the Wind,
has the prizes packaged and ready for
the names of the lucky winners. The
judges are eating their oatmeal in the
morning without complaint in an attempt
to build up strength for the job of pick-
ing the winners. Watch next month's
issue for more news of this big contest.

inches more space in type, though Mr.
Morse is nice looking, too. The Oslo
newspaper was properly impressed at the
enterprise of a writer who journeyed all
the way across the Atlantic for a story.
So are we. So will you be when you read
the interview.

H Duncan Underhill is stamping around
out in Arizona in boots and a ten-
gallon hat right this minute getting a taste
of life in the old west for his report on
Virginia City. The big location company
is there, too, so, unless Mr. Underhill de-
cides to stay out there on the lone prairie,
we should have a fine story on how Errol
Flynn and Miriam Hopkins adapted them-
selves to frontier life.

■ The winter film season is in full swing,
and promises to be one of the most
varied of many seasons. Any minute now
you will be seeing Gulliver's Travels, Max
Fleisher's feature length cartoon which
has been two years in the making. Gone
With the Wind is to be released just be-
fore the holidays.

The Blue Bird is another long film, all
in color, and said to be by far the most
impressive of the Shirley Temple pictures.
Good old shuddersome melodrama is rep-
resented by The Hunchback of Notre
Dame. The Grapes of Wrath promises to
be a somewhat perturbing piece of realism,
since Twentieth Century-Fox announces
determination to follow the best seller
closely in the script. It will be released
at about the same time Pinocchio comes
to the screen, so you can rush right out
of one theatre and forget what you have
seen in following the adventures of the
puppet who is the hero of Walt Disney's
second feature length cartoon. It seems
rather superfluous to wish you "Happy
New Year" after this look ahead.

Ap^Skor2

Rhapsody In Green

An American writer visits Geraldine Fitzgerald in her
Irish home antl writes a vivid story on the rasing star

I i

When you meet Geraldine Fitzgerald

you understand what all those Irish

tenors have been singing about for years.

For this girl from Dublin, who has been
hailed everywhere as the Number One
Film Discovery of
1939, seems some-
how a symbol of all
that is best in Ire-
land. There is the
wild, restless beauty
of the land in her
flowing, dark -red
hair and piercing
green eyes. There is
that stubborn inde-
pendence that is so
innately Irish; and
the famous Gaelic
generosity and kind-
liness and under-
standing. And a
trace, too, of that
sadness that seems
to touch everything
Irish.

Think of a lass
from Erin and one
of two pictures im-
mediately presents
itself; either a bare-
footed colleen
standing in the sun-
lit doorway of a
whitewashed,
thatched roofed

cottage, her hair blowing in the wind and
a flirtatious smile on her lips; or else one
of those grand ladies from Dublin, pale,
regal, white throated, who speak the
purest English in the world, dress beauti-
fully and ride and hunt and preside with
grace over the dinner tables where con-
versation is both an art and a profession.

Geraldine Fitzgerald is a mixture of
both. She has the poise of a princess and
the robust vitality of a peasant; the quiet,
pensive charm of the well bred but slight-
ly rusticated Ireland of yesterday, and
the bright, eager lust for life of the
challenging new Ireland of today.

Above all she is, in the opinion of
everyone who has seen her first three
Hollywood pictures, Dark Victory, Wuth-
ering Heights and A Child Is Born, a
superlatively fine young actress.

They had kept her so busy making
those three pictures her first six months
in Hollywood that little was known about
the redheaded, romantic-looking lady
other than that she had a tall, handsome
husband somewhere in the background,
and had played in the Irish theatre for a
time before she blasted blase New York-
ers out of their seats with a magnificent
performance in Shaw's Heartbreak House.

By WILIS! 15 MORSE, JR.

Geraldine Fitzgerald who has just
returned from Ireland to act in Disraeli

When those six months of continuous
work were over, Geraldine had the sort
of lull that studio publicity departments
usually fill with long afternoon interviews
in which new arrivals to Hollywood are
subject to intimate probings by the press.

This is known as a "build up" and in-
cludes posing for photographers in quaint
little routines like throwing a medicine
ball about, fetchingly garbed in shorts; or
washing a spaniel underneath a hibiscus
bush, or knitting a
sweater while sprawled
in a bathing suit on
some porch furniture.
Being a reserved
young lady who was
not in the habit of dis-
cussing her adolescent
romances with perfect
strangers, and not be-
ing in the least inter-
ested in either medicine
balls, spaniels or knit-
ting, Geraldine, as the
forces of publicity be-
gan to descend on her,
took one startled look
and lit out for Ireland.
That her evasion of
the conventional chan-
nels of exploitation did
no harm to her career
was testified in the fact
that Warner Brothers,
to whom she is under
contract, announced
that when she returned
from an extended va-
cation she would be
promoted from fea-
tured roles to stardom.
But meanwhile it left a lot of film fans
wondering just who and what Geraldine
Fitzgerald was.

This is where I come into the story. I
took the next boat to Cobh, and a week
later was sitting on a dusty, upturned
cracker box, backstage at the Abbey
Theatre in Dublin, listening to Michael
Dolan, grizzled old director of the Abbey
Theatre's School of Acting, tell of Geral-
dine's apprenticeship in the art of enter-
tainment, and how, with hard work, she
had overcome an inherent nervousness.

I talked with an enchanting poet-play-
wright who had been a captain of the
Irish rebels in the Civil War before he
turned dramatic critic, in which capacity
he had known Geraldine. And from him
I learned how Geraldine had taken Dublin
by storm in her first appearance at the
Gate Theatre.

I talked with sixteen year old Pamela
Fitzgerald, whose frank brown eyes and
saucy pug nose were as captivating as her
complete self-possession when she de-
clared her sister to be "the best actress
the movies had ever had."

Over a tall one at a bar that was old
when Broadway was a cow pasture, I
talked with [Continued on page 46]

1. "A great day, isn't it, bartender?"

Holiday
Spirit

Yon will see Roland Yonng
and Pat O'Brien in Happy
Ending in this scene for
which we have written our
own Christmas-spirit titles.
Pat O'Brien is cast also in
Ladies Know Too Much

2. "No, no. This one is on m<- !"

9. "He thinks he's Santa Claus!"

10. "So I guess both of us better . . .

11. Buy another drink''

Forecasts For 1940

Lonise Lochridge, who has been delighting the
patrons of Earl Carroll's theatre with her glimpses
into the future, tells what she sees for the stars

By HELEN HOVER

marriage of Brian Aherne to a girl
much younger than himself after a
short courtship, the divorce of Joan
Crawford, the adoption of another
baby by the Jack Bennys, and the
scandal which would involve several
Hollywood stars.

Here is what she tells us will happen
to the famous newly-weds:

Well, 1939 has just about
turned the corner. What a
year it was!

It was a year of many
marriages. It was the year
when the "smuggling" scan-
dal almost wrecked the
careers of several of our
big stars. It was the year
that Scarlett was at long
last chosen, amid a storm
of protest. It was the year
that Joan and Franchot de-
cided to call it quits, and
the long-standing marriage
of the Wallace Beerys col-
lapsed. It was the year that
Hedy Lamarr emerged, and
"oomph" became a byword
for a Texas redhead. It was
the year that John Barry-
more delivered his famous
spanking. It was the year
of new names, new faces —
of Greer Garsons, Linda
Darnells, Brenda Joyces,
William Holdens, Patricia
Morisons and Geraldine
Fitzgeralds. It was the year
Cesar Romero needed a
shave.

And now 1940!

What about it? What
tragedies, what happinesses,
what upsets, what scandals,
what successes, what fail-
ures will it bring to Holly-
wood?

Here's a peep:

The Clark Gables will
have to fight a scandal . . .
death will strike at two
beloved actors, and a fa-
mous actress enters the
year under the shadow of
death . . . attempted suicide by a ju-
venile actor whose career has taken a
nose dive . . . an avalanche of new-
comers, with particular attention being
paid to a young American girl who
has not yet appeared on the screen. She
will be a great sensation . . . accidents will
threaten several stars ... a scandal will
involve many in the motion picture in-
dustry and require a prolonged court
action . . . despite the war scare, motion
picture business in general will pick up
. . . there will be a general adjustment
of salaries which will mark the beginning

of the end of the tremendous weekly pay-
checks . . . two studios will merge . . .
retirement of a top-flight star due to poor
health . . . And there's more.

All of these predictions come from
Louise Lochridge, one of the most popular
of Hollywood astrologers and seers. Miss
Lochridge is now appearing at Earl Car-
roll's Theatre-restaurant, and both the
famous and not-so-famous visitors at Car-
roll's anxiously wait their turn for a
session with her.

Last year she predicted the marriage of
Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, the

CLARK GABLE AND CAROLE LOM-
BARD : Both may expect a very fine year.
But there is someone in the background
who is trying to make trouble for them.
Clark faces a minor operation, and Carole
must watch her health also. Toward the
end of the year, a baby adoption is indi-

ROBERT TAYLOR AND BARBARA
STANWYCK: Barbara will be a great
help for Bob this year. Taylor will go
through a change. This will be a turbulent
year for him, professionally speaking. He
will have to fight to hold on to what he

HOLLYWOOD

has. A male newcomer will enter the field
offering him serious rivalry. However,
Barbara will encourage him to fight for
what he wants, and the end of the year
looks very promising for Taylor. He will
win his objective, and enter a new type
of film characterization. Barbara's career
reaches its pinnacle in 1940. She must be
careful of her health, particularly her
throat, and should not accept too many
radio engagements.

this in 1940. He will give a performance
in a picture, as yet unproduced, which
will be hailed as one of the greatest in
Hollywood's history. There is danger of a
travel accident to him during March.

THE DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS, JR.'S:
There will be some discord in this union
around the spring of the year, but this will
be dispelled. Doug must be careful to
hold his temper. He is, by astrological
indications, an executive-artist. He will
devote much of his time in
1940 toward the writing and
production end of pictures.
Not much will be forth-
coming from these non-
acting ventures, but they
will be important in his
future.

TYRONE POWER AND
ANNABELLA: Difficulties
will arise in the household
because of family interfer-
ence. There is a third party
who will cause discord and
throw a shadow on the
house. Annabella's tact will
do much to overcome the
period of stress, until it
passes. This is an excellent
year for Tyrone in pictures.
His popularity will continue
to grow. Annabella will
not fare so well. Nineteen
forty doesn't hold a very
bright outlook for her
career. She will settle down
as a Hollywood housewife.
HEDY LAMARR AND
GENE MARKEY: Around
the middle of the year there
will come rumors of a
domestic crash, but there
will not be a separation.
Threat of gossip, will rage
around Hedy, but she will
triumph. Hedy will have
some difficulty with her
career, and will have several
squabbles with her studio.
A bad start in 1940 will be
overcome toward the end of

Louise Lochridge finds pretty things
ahead for chorus girls from Earl
Carroll's show, judging by the smiles

BRIAN AHERNE AND JOAN FON-
TAINE— This is indeed a brilliant year
for this pair, particularly for Joan. It
is her peak year, representing the realiza-
tion of her dreams and ambitions. She
will be talked about as the year's out-
standing "discovery." After 1940, her pro-
fessional life will gradually decline, but
this will be by her own wish. There is
such a strong and mutual magnetism be-
tween her and Brian, that she is willing
to forego everything to be his wife. Brian
Aherne is a great artist born to do great
things, and he will just begin to realize

JANUARY, 1940

the year when she will appear in a picture
which will reveal a new Lamarr and
create fresh interest in her. She must
beware of the advice of friends. Gene
Markey will be a bulwark of strength to
her, and she would be wise to depend
upon his judgment alone and do as he
says. Signs indicate that in the future she
will settle down as housewife and mother
— glamour build-up to the contrary! A
visit from a loved one across waters is

JANET GAYNOR AND ADRIAN: Here
is a marriage that will endure. Janet will
appear in one picture and then will inter-
est herself in other occupations. Janet
will find greater happiness when she her-
self is in the background than she ever
had when she was in the limelight. Adrian
will be the master of this household, and
his personality dominates hers. Illness
hovers over someone close to Janet.

And now for Hollywood's romances.
What is their future?

JOAN BENNETT AND WALTER
WANGER: These two are headed for
marriage. Under Wanger's guidance,
Joan's career will continue to grow
brighter.

GEORGE RAFT-VIRGINIA PEINE:
This romance has yet to weather many
storms: criticism, gossip, interference and
strong opposition from a third party. A
legal battle looms for George, but it will
be long before he wins his ground. He
has a great year ahead of him in pictures
— one of the best of his career. He must
be careful of accidents on water.

ANN SHERIDAN-CESAR ROMERO:
Cesar is headed for a broken heart — for
the first time in his life. He is deeply
drawn to Ann Sheridan, but she doesn't
return his affections in the same degree.
She will fall in love with an older man,
a business executive. Ann will have much
occasion to lean upon this man for counsel
and sympathy, because a scandal threat-
ens to break over her, involving her in-
nocently, and he will help her dodge it.
Ann will find her real love this year, but
Cesar will not.

WALLACE BEERY: Will forget the
heartache of his recent divorce in another
marriage, this time to a girl much younger
than he. There will be another legal battle
over Carol Ann, which will cause Beery
much worry, but things will work out
well for him in the end.

ALICE FAYE AND TONY MARTIN:
This is a crucial year for them. There is
a cloud in their personal life. Tony Martin
will make a fine movie comeback, and
Alice's star continues in the ascendence.

LILI DAMITA AND ERROL FLYNN:
Flynn's career bears the stamp of
success. Travel will take him
from the screen for some time.

INo divorce for Lili and Errol, al-
though there is some sort of sep-
aration for them. There is the
shadow of death close to someone
dear to Flynn. Lili Damita will
attempt a screen comeback in
1940, but then she will lose inter-
est in it. She is a good mate for
Flynn, in spite of surface con-
ditions.

OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND: Her
career looks brilliant, and she will turn
in such an outstanding performance that
her fame and popularity will take a
healthy spurt. She will become engaged
this year, and probably marry before the
year is out.

NORMA SHEARER: Norma will marry
again, but not this year. This in spite of
the fact that she will meet a man, through
a woman, who will interest her deeply and
who will try to persuade her to marry him.
He is not an [Continued on page 61]

dustry and require a prolonged couri
action . . . despite the war scare, motion
picture business in general will pick up
. . . there will be a general adjustment
of salaries which will mark the beginning

iamous ana nox-so-iamous visitors ax Car-
roll's anxiously wait their turn for a
session with her.

Last year she predicted the marriage of
Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, the

3l/\n w H-.iv: oaiuara win ue a gicoi

help for Bob this year. Taylor will go
through a change. This will be a turbulent
year for him, professionally speaking. He
will have to fight to hold on to what he

HOLLYWOOD

Forecasts For 1940

LontM Lochridge, who ha« boon dplitfhtfintf th«»
patroni of Earl Carroll's theatre with her jellmpses
Into ih«» fntare, lelln what the mp«»n for I he murn

By HELEN IIOVEIl

marriage of Brian Aherne to a giri
much younger than himself after a
short courtship, the divorce of Joan
Crawford, the adoption of another
baby by the Jack Bennys, and the
scandal which would involve several
Hollywood stars.

Here is what she tells us will happen
to the famous newly-weds:

has. A male newcomer will enter the field
offering him serious rivalry. However.
Barbara will encourage him to fight for
what he wants, and the end of the year
looks very promising for Taylor. He will
win his objective, and enter a new type
of film characterization. Barbara's career
reaches its pinnacle in 1940. She must be
careful of her health, particularly her
throat, and should not accept too many
radio engagements.

Well, 1939 ha« ]Ull about
irntd tha corner. What a
L-fir it wan!

It was a year of many
merriagta. It w»h the year
when the "smuggling" scan-

'l.il nlmusl wrecked the
BUM] ■ "I :.'■'.'■ t.il of OUr

big itnri it was the year
that Scarlett was at long
lul chosen, nmld a storm
of protest. It was the year
thnt Joan und Frnnchot de-
cided to call it quits, and
iln l'.fM! :,(;• nding mnrrlage
of the Wallace Beerys col-
Inpsed. It w»H the year thnt
Hedy Lmnnrr emerged, and
"oomph" became a byword
for B Texus redhead. It wns
the year Mini .Inhn Biirry-
more delivered his famous

npnnkitiK- It woe the year
iii now namoi, now faces —

of Greer Garioni, Linda
Darnells, Brenda Joyces,

William Holdens, Patricia

Mm iimns and Geraldine
Kil/Ki'iiiliK it was the yenr
(r-iii Romero needed a

■have,

Ami now 1940!

Who.! about (t? What

h n'--ilii".. what linppiiicvirs,
what upsets, what .inindiils,

what lucceiioit what fail-
urt I will it bring to Holly-
wood?

Horo'i a peep

;'/,,■ Clarh Qablu toll.
have (•< fight a ■caudal . . .
death will »trt(«« at run.
Ix'toiu'd tn torn, and a fa~
ntoiu nctret i o n 1 1 r i the
l/ear unde the ihadoti) o/
death . . attempted eutclde In/ a |u

I'i'JiKi' ricfm le/inA'c '« i fin . tiil.i-n ,i

note dlwe an avalanche • '. rteu

COim - ■'. lettli (HuMi'iilm ntlYuftoii being

patd to a i; i Ldv i li an girl toho

'in ""'i net tipprared on tht nrretni. She

mill be a gi tal itiu . at . id ■■■> tuUl

threaten leueral itara , . , a scandal uilll
Involve i". '"" In the motion picture In-
dued i; and require <■ prolonged i out I
action . . despite the toai scare, motion

plot hi '■ buelnei i I sral tutll pick up

there "-ill bi a general adjustment

»! tol.i-i.v n-ln,li icill '. Hi '■■■.■■■ ■ .-,„

o/ tin* end of the tremendous weekly pay-
checks . . . two studios will merge
retirement of a top-flight star due to poor
health . . . And there's more.

All of these predictions come from
Louise Lochridge, one of the most popular
of Hollywood astrologers and seers Miss
I mlonlKe is now appearing at Earl Car-
'"" rhMtre restaurant, and both the
famous and not-so-famous visitors at Car-
roll s anxiously wait their turn for a

nation with her.

Last year she predicted the marriage of
Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, the

CLARK GABLE AND CAROLE LOM-
BARD: Both may expect a very fine year.
But there is someone in the background
who is trying to make trouble for them.
Clark faces a minor operation, and Carole
must watch her health also. Toward the
end of the year, a baby adoption is indi-
cated.

ROBERT TAYLOR AND BARBARA
STANWYCK: Barbara will be
help for Bob this year. Taylor will |
through a change. This will be a turbulent
year for him, professionally speaking. He
will have to fight to hold on to what he
HOLLYWOOD

BRIAN AHERNE AND JOAN FON-
TAINE—This is indeed a brilliant year
(or this pair, particularly for Joan. It
is her peak year, representing the realiza-
h°ii lS her dreams and ambitions. She
will be talked about as the year's out-
standing "discovery." After 1940. her pro-
fessional life will gradually decline, but
"us will be by her own wish. There is
such a strong and mutual magnetism be-
jw«n her and Brian, that she is willing
to forego everything to be his wife. Brian
Aherne is a great artist born to do great
things, and he will just begin to realize
JANUARY. 1940

Hollywood's hisSrv TW fa 0^"*' /"

indications, an executive-artist He will
devote much of.hfa ^ ^

1940 toward the writing and
production end of pi,
Not much will be forth-
coming from these non-
acting ventures, but they
will be important in his
future.

TYRONE POWER AM)
ANNABELLA: Difficulties
will arise in the household
because of family interfer-
ence. There is a third party
who will cause discord and
throw a shadow on the
house. Annabella's tact will
do much to overcome the
period of stress, until it
passes. This is an excellent
year for Tyrone in pictures.
His popularity will continue
fo grow. Annabel!,, will
not fare so well. Nineteen
forty doesn't hold a very
bright outlook for her
career. She will settle down
as a Hollywood housewife

HEDY LAMARR AND
GENE MARKEY: Around
the middle of the year there
will come rumors of a
domestic crash, but there
will not be a separation.
Threat of gossip, will rage
around Hedy, but she will
triumph. Hedy will have
some difficulty with her
career, and will have several
squabbles with her studio
A bad start in 1940 will be
overcome toward the end of

Louise Lorhridjrc finds prelt) things
ahead for chorus girls from I „rl

Carroll's -hox. judging by th, mil..

the year when she will appear in a picture
which will reveal a new Lamarr and
create fresh interest in her. She must
beware of the advice of friends. Gene
Markey will be a bulwark of strength to
her, and she would be wise to depend
upon his judgment alone and do as he
says. Signs indicate that in the future she
will settle down as housewife and mother
—glamour build-up to the contrary! A
visit from a loved one across waters is
seen.

JVM I GAYNOn l\ll WlltUVHeie
is a marriage that will endure J
appear in one picture and then will inter-
est herself in other occupations Jam!
will find greater happiness when she her-
self is in the background than
had when she was In the limelight Adrian

will be the master of this household, and
his personality dominates hers Illness

hovers ovet someone close to J

And note for Holl,,,
IW.or is their future?

J<>\N BENNE n vMi « u ,kk
« »M.f It- These two are ha

Under Wanger's guidance
ireer will continue
brighter

GEORGE RAFT-VIRGINIA PI INI
This romance has yet t„ weathi
storms criticism, gossip, Intertea

strong opposition from a thitd p

legal battle looms for George, bul ll will

und Hi

has a gTCat year ahead of him in pictures

—one of the best of his careei i
be careful ... water

\nn SHERIDAN! ESAR ROMERO.

Cesar is headed for a broken he

the liisi time In his Ufa Ha
drawn to Ann Sheridan, bul shi
return his affections In Ihi
She will Fall In love with an older man

! executive Ann will have much

occasion to lean upon this man fol
and sympathy, because n u indal
ens to break over her, Involving I
nocentlj .,,,.1 he will help hei d
Ann will find her real love thl

Cesai h ill not.

« Ml ICE BEERY i Will forgel |ha
heai lache ol hii ,, , , nl dli

ibis time to a girl much y,
than he, There will be another lei
over Carol Ann, which will cause Beet)
much worry, but things will work oul

well for him in the end

M li I FAYE AND TOM H Ml N\
] hi i b ci ucial ve.o i,,, ihr, i, 'i

a cloud in their pe nal life ton)

will make a fine movie comeback. ;<n,l

Mice uvr continues in the ascend
i II I DAM1TA \M> ERROL II inn
Flynn's career bears the stamp ol
success. Travel will lake him
from the screen for some
No divorce f, I I ,,,l, al-
though there is some sort of sep-
aration for them Th

shadow of death close to 101 r,

dear to Flynn l.ili Damila will

attempt a screen comeback in

1940, bul then h, will lo ■ Intel

est in it. She is a good mule fol

Flynn, In spite ol

dftlons

OLIVIA HI. HAVILLANDi He,
career looks brilliant, and she will turn
In such an outstanding pel

•' Fame and popularity will take a
healthy spurt. She will become en
this year, ond probably marry bel
year is out.

NORMA SHEARER: Norma will
again, but not this year. This ii,
the fact that she will meet a man, i
a woman, who will interest her deeply and
who will try to persuade hot to marry him.
He is not an \<

Pictures on these pages (i3 ll'alt Disney Productions

A Puppet
Comes to Life

Something about the two years
of labor, and the two million
drawings that went into Walt
Disney's second feature film

By WINIFRED AYDELOTTE

Pinocchio starts as a tov

And gets into trouble

The Blue Fairy gives him lif

Playing with fire!

Doug and Mary Lee Hart-
ford Fairbanks

George and Zorina Balanehine

Louis and Ida Lupino Hayward Clark and Carole Lombard Gab

W^GmW^™

Robert and Florence Rice Wilcox

Nelson and Ann Franklin Eddy Tyrone and Annabella Power

Slapsie Maxie and Gail
Reingold Rosenbloom

Leo and Kay Marvis Gorcey

Ronald and Benita Hume

Colman Jackie and Nan Grey Westrope

Her Heart Belongs To Hollywood

H Fame is a hussy. Ask Mary Martin.
For years she tried desperately to
catch up with the jade. No- dice. She
followed Horace Greeley's advice to
Hollywood. She made the Seven Dwarfs
look like playboy idlers by comparison.

She practiced her pretty head off at the
dancing studios of Fanchon and Marco,
convinced she was destined to be as great
as Pavlowa and Powell put together. She
hooked on to a sustaining program on a
local radio station (without pay) hoping
someone important would hear her. She
poured out her lonely heart at cocktail
hour at a swanky bar and sang "The Way
You Look Tonight" and "Mr. Pagannini."
She warbled for the coast Cafe Society at
a sporty night club.

She gave a recital, of classical songs, no
less. She swung grand opera. She took
a half dozen screen tests and the Pooh-
bahs said she photographed like Fu
Manchu. She came to New York, landed
a fair-to-middlin' spot in a musical tagged
Leave It to Me, and on opening night be-
fore a house that was long on "economic
royalists" she peeled off her garments at
a Siberian railway station called "Irkutsk"
and trilled "My Heart Belongs to Daddy."
The audience as one man gave her a
tumultuous welcome. Even the critics
crawled out of their igloos and spouted
like miniature Mt. Vesuvius over the new
arrival, and murmured such phrases as
"The Toast of the Town" in their columns
the next day. At last Mary Martin had
caught up with her elusive destiny.

Fame IS a hussy.

The Texas thrush is back in Hollywood.
No more rhapsodies at bars. No more
gratis radio work. No more caroling at
the night clubs. Mary Martin is now a
film star. Big doings are afoot. Her first
picture will find her playing opposite
Allan Jones in The Great Victor Herbert.
After that Paramount has other plans.
The press department is already sounding
the alarms. Don't be surprised too much
if you hear the phrase, "The Sagebrush
Jenny Lind." It will still be Mary Martin.

Only yesterday — back in 1935, if you
go in for statistics — she was an operator
of a string of dance studios in Texas. A
town wag called her "a Terpsichorean
trust that ought to be investigated for
monopoly." The Martin gonfalon flew
over, the little temples of the dance in no
less than five Texas hamlets, with her na-
tive Weatherford as the center of op-
erations.

It was a hectic life, teaching Nijinsky
entrechats here and Bill Robinson tap
routines there. She was so successful that
she became student poor. A mere babe
at bookkeeping, she did well to collect
half her tuition fees. Deep down in her
heart she was interested only in being a
dance missionary and devil take the
profits. He did.

Exactly what caused her to throw in

Hollywood turned her down
cold the first six times she
knocked at the gates, but
Mary Martin knew what
she wanted, and she got it

By JOHN R. FRANCHEY

the sponge that eventful year of '35 is a
moot point. What may have contributed
to her decision to leave the purple sage
was the burning issue of Liberalism vs.
Conservatism, the very problem then en-
gaging the White Father in Washington,
though he had things under better control.
At least, no one burned down the White
House.

The unvarnished truth is that some neo-
Puritans set fire to her studio at Weath-
erford, convinced that dancing was an
abomination and a pitfall for the young.

"That's how it is in small towns; at least,
that's how it was back in Weather-
ford," she grins. "It really didn't
matter very much because I had
the place insured. We built it up
again real pretty." This by way
of philosophic postscript.

Make no mistake about it. The
lady harbors no ill-will toward
her native heath. Hear her out,
will you?

"Why, my gosh, Weatherford is more
famous than . . . well . . . Anyway, do
you realize that one of the original Flora-
dora girls came from Weatherford? She
did all right by herself, too. She went up
North and married a
Yankee — a millionaire.
And another one of our
belles did right hand-

some. She landed the
Prince of Liechtenstein.
She's real happy, I hear.
In fact, all of our girls
marry them rich and cute."

She catches her breath.

"And do you know that
Walter Huston once ran a
power plant up there?"

If Mary is gaga over
Weatherford, the town is
hers, right up to the last
road-bond issue. The
town's Chamber of Com-
merce gurgles over the fact
that she was cradled here. The
local electric light company
whoops it up about her in full-

page ads when it's in the mood. In fact,
even the four other units of the late Mar-
tin dance empire manage to unleash ki-
yi-yippees on account of auld lang syne.
Why, even now and then Mr. Farley's
agents bring her a glowing letter, and a
check on-account, from one of her ex-
scholars.

| But in 1935, she was just a feminine
Dick Whittington with a southern ac-
cent. She had set her soul on the big,
western Metropolis. Her London was
Hollywood. Way inside of her there was a
longing to become a great dancer. She
loved ballet. But she had an unquestion-
able flare for the modern dance. Why not
become a genius at classical tap, she asked
herself. Across the great plains she roared
to Hollywood. There were top-flight
teachers here. And here Fame hung out,
if you could find her.

Before you could say
"Eleanor Powell," she was
enrolled in the Fanchon and

Marco school of the dance. She began her
chores in dead earnest.

Days without end she rehearsed. While
the lackadaisical piano-player thumped
out the choruses, she did her pirouettes,
leaps, kicks. Between lessons she scoured
the town looking for engagements. She
found none.

She refused to be discouraged. After all,
she consoled herself, wasn't she also a
singer? Why, of course! Hadn't she sung
in chapel at Ward Belmont 'way back in
1930, in her final season at that educa-
tional spa? Come to think of it, hadn't
she made a recording at the age of 7 of
that wheezy ditty, "When Apples Grow
on Lilac Trees?" Of course, she had.
Why, even the Episcopal Church back
home had paid her good money, 20 berries
a month, for lifting her well-tempered
coloratura in sacred cantatas and chorales.

Did anyone want a singer, someone "real
different?"

It seems that a certain Hollywood es-
tablishment called the Cinegrill needed
that very thing for its cocktail hour.

"I sold 'em a bill of goods," Mary
chortles.

Before long she was booked at the Casa-
nova Club, too. All the while she kept
making passes at the top position in the
dance then, as now, roundly contested by
Miles. Rogers and Powell. Nothing beau-
tiful ever came of these
gestures.

Sing a song of six-

pence, a pocket full of blasted dreams.

The impasse was bridged by the arrival
of news from one of her spies that Buddy
Rogers' air-show starring those antic
nifties, Victor Moore and Helen Brod-
erick, needed a new love interest, prefer-
ably an interest in diminished sevenths,
in short, a singer on the hot side. The
downcast one joined the horde of appli-
cants and got an audition. She was picked.

A weekly trip to the cashier's window
for important money was an intoxicating
delight. When the thirteen weeks of the
original booking were over, Rogers re-
newed her contract. At the end of this
trick, the program was discontinued. Once
more the lady was at loose ends.

■ With a revived enthusiasm, she
plunged into her dance studies again.
As Christmas time began to approach,
she found Texas yanking her pigtails. She
called time out. She flew away home.

A winter in Texas with her home folks
and the old nostalgia came over her. In
Weatherford she was getting nowhere.
Far away she heard the familiar call.
When the dandelions came, she bought
herself a little yellow roadster and set out
to make her fortune.

Back in Hollywood, and back again to
the eternal one-two-three-four-five, the
machine-gun taps, the dips, the whirls.
For months it went on. Came the June
brides and the suspicion began to take
hold of her that perhaps she wasn't a sen-
sational dancer. An excellent dancer, yes.
But that was all.

She kneeled down beside her Rubicon,
rattled the dice. Then she plunged in.
There was no turning back, Henceforth
she would be a singer, the likes of which
Hollywood had never seen or heard.

"I'll show 'em," she promised.

It behooves us to mention here that this
rash promise was more than she had bar-
gained for. Mostly
no one cared to listen,
no one important, at

any rate. She got her-
self an agent. But he
found no spots for her.
She changed to another.
Results: identical. She
tried a third. His labors
were epic, unfruitful.
She parted company
with all agents, pro tern.

"I still believe in you," Number
Three said. "And I'll be talking
Mary Martin every chance I get."
"So long."
"So long."

The Great Victor Herbert is

Mary Martin's first picture

and it gives her plenty of

opportunity to sing as well as

dance to the gay

familiar tunes of

the popular song

| If life had been grim up to this time,
now it became grimmer.

Things were now at an impossible low.
Mary's real daddy, a judge out in Texas,
had had a stroke, and Mary decided to die
rather than write to him for money. One
night she decided to sing for her supper
at an audition at the Trocadero, famous
Hollywood oasis. Instead of an evening
get-up, she wore an accordion-pleated
skirt with a red belt, set off by a batiste
blouse with ruffles. Anyhow, she stood
there in the wings waiting for her cue,
knees wobbling, while that merry emcee,
Joe Lewis, rattled off a nice introduction.
Banked on all sides were dinner jackets
and tails; smart Lelongs, Patous, Vionnets
and Schiaparellis. She signaled to the
band leader. The orchestra struck up the
opening bars of "II Bacio," or "The Kiss."

For half a chorus she poured out her
golden, dramatic-soprano. All of a sud-
den she turned on that impish smile. Her
eyes danced. Her body began to sway.
And for the first time on record "II Bacio"
was in the groove, swinging like mad.

The house burst into applause. Cheers
rang out. When she came out to take a
bow Jack Benny stood up in a chair and
yelled "More! More!" Tyrone Power and
Don Ameche led a miniature cheering sec-
tion. It was a minor riot. For forty-five
minutes she sang encores, until the man-
agement made the announcement: "Mary
Martin will appear at the Trocadero for a
regular two-weeks' engagement begin-
ning . . ." The din was terrific.

The next day was a jubilee. Every film
company in town called up and asked her
if she would make a screen test. They had
all forgotten that locked up in their vaults
were tests she made several years back.
She said, "No, thank you."

More importantly, Agent Number Three
called up, all agog. He had good news.
Lawrence Schwab, the producer, had
heard her at the Trocadero and wanted
her to star in a musical he was planning
for the fall, something to be called Ring
Out the New. She said, yes.

To top it all off, a radio impresario
shoved a contract under her nose for a
13-weeks' engagement on the "Good
News" program for the largest salary she
had ever earned in her life.

"It was colossal," she chirps. "I took it."

In the fall, as per schedule, she came to
New York to make Mr. Schwab rich and
herself famous. Here she learned that Mr.
Schwab had had a change of heart. He
had postponed ringing out the new —
indefinitely.

B As the rain fell on the windowpanes
of her hotel room overlooking Central
Park that very night, she wondered what
the good people of Weatherford would say
when she returned in disgrace. She had
burned her bridges in Hollywood.

She cried a little.

On the third day, as she was "fixing to
go back home," Mr. Schwab called up to
say that he knew a spot for her. A lady
named June Knight had just quit a show
labeled Leave It To Me, about to undrape
in a fortnight or so. The music was by
Cole Porter. Would she like to try out? He
could fix it up. [Continued on page 64]

at bookkeeping, she did well to collect
half her tuition fees. Deep down in her
heart she was interested only in being a
dance missionary and devil take the
profits. He did.

Exactly what caused her to throw in

road-bond issue. The
town's Chamber of Com-
merce gurgles over the fact
that she was cradled here. The
local electric light company
whoops it up about her in full-

Her Heart Belongs To Hollywood

■ Fame is a hussy. Ask Mary Martin.
For years she tried desperately to
catch up with the jade. No. dice. She
followed Horace Greeley's advice to
Hollywood. She made the Seven Dwarfs
look like playboy idlers by comparison.
She practiced her pretty head off at the
dancing studios of Fanchon and Marco,
convinced she was destined to be as great
as Pavlowa and Powell put together, ine
hooked on to a sustaining program on a
local radio station (without pay) hoping
someone important would hear her. She
poured out her lonely heart at cocktail
hour at n swanky bar and sang The Way
You Look Tonight" and "Mr. Paganmnl.
She warbled for the coast Cafe Society at
a sporty night club.

She gave a recital, of classical songs, no
less. She swung grand opera. She took
n half dozen screen tests and the Poon-

l.nhs ■ I she photographed like Fu

Monchu. She came to New York, landed
a fair-to-middlin' spot In a musical tagged
LeoiH It to Me, and on opening night be-
fore 11 house that wns long on "economic
royalists" she peeled off her garments at
a Siberian railway station called "Irkutsk
and trilled "My Heart Belongs to Daddy.
Tho audience as one man gave her a
tumultuous welcome. Even the critics
crawled out of their igloos and spouted
like miniature Mt. Vesuvius over the new
arrival and murmured such phrases as
"The Toast of the Town" in their columns
the next day. At last Mary Martin had
caught up with her elusive destiny.

I- IS a hussy.

The Texas Ihrush is back 111 Hollywood.
N„ mimic rhapsodic!; nl bars. No more
gratis radio work. No more enroling at
the nlghl clubs, Mary Martin Is now a
dim star. Big doings ore afoot. Her first
picture will Bnd her playing opposite

Allan Jones in '">•■ ''■'"'< V"'""' Herbert.

After that Paramount has other plans.
The puss department Is already sounding

I),,. ;,!,,,„,.. li,,,,'! hi- surprised ton much

ii v..n hear the phrase, "The Sagebrush
,l,.„ny I ,lnd." It will still be Mary Martin.
Only yesterday— back in 1935, if you
,,,, n> fol II itlatlcl she was an operator
,,i ., ,trlng "i dance studios in Texas, A
town wag called her "e Terpslehorean

lliisl Mini oiii'.lil lo he in\ limited fin

poly" The Mnrlhi gonfalon Hew

over the little temples ol the dance in no

I,,... tlioi live Texas hanilels, with li.-i na

in, Weatherford as the center of op-
eration*.

II wns ii I,, rlii lift-, leaching NlJInsky
tntrechuU here and Bill Robinson tap
routines there. She was so successful thai
I,, became studenl poor A mere babe
,1 I kkoeplng, she did well to collect

half her tuition fees. Deep down in her

li.snt she was Interested only In being a
dance missionary and devil ink,, the
profits He did
Exactly whal caused hei to throw In

Hollywood turned her down
.old the fir* six times she
knocked at the gates, b«
Mary Martin knew what
she wanted, and she got It

JOHN B. FRANCHEY

the sponge that eventful year of 35 is a
moo point. What may have contributed
to her decision to leave the purp e sage
was the burning issue of Liberalism vs
Conservatism, the very problem then en
gaging Ae White Father in Washington,
Sigh he had things under better con.ro'
At least, no one burned down the White
House.

The unvarnished truth is that some neo-
Puritans set fire to her studio at Weath-
erford, convinced that dancing was an
abomination and a pitfall for the young.
"That's how it is in small towns; at least
that's how it was back in Weather-
ford," she grins. "It really didn t
matter very much because I had
the place insured. We built it up
again real pretty." This by way
of philosophic postscript.

Make no mistake about it. The
lady harbors no ill-will toward
her native heath. Hear her out,
will you? ,

"Why, my gosh, Weatherford is more
famous than . . . well . . . Anyway, do
you realize that one of the original Flora
dora girls came from Weatherford? P-
did all right by herself, too. She went
North and married a
Yankee— a millionaire.
And another one of our
belles did right hand-

■ But in 1935, she was just a feminine
Dick Whittington with a southern ac-
cent. She had set her soul on the big,
western Metropolis. Her London was
Hollywood. Way inside of her there was a
longing to become a great dancer. She
loved ballet. But she had an unquestion-
able flare for the modern dance. Why not
become a genius at classical tap, she asked
herself. Across the great plains she roared
to Hollywood. There were top-flight
teachers here. And here Fame hung out,
if you could find her.

Before you could say
"Eleanor Powell," she was
enrolled in the Fanchon and

{

\ I

more
, do

'°Sne
it up

some. She landed the
Prince of Liechtenstein.
She's real happy, I hear.
In fact, all of our girls
marry them rich and cute."
She catches her breath.
"And do you know that
Walter Huston once ran a
power plant up there?"

Marco school of the dance. She began her
chores in dead earnest.

Did anyone want a singer, someone "real
different?"

It seems that a certain Hollywood es-
tablishment called the Cinegrill needed
that very thing for its cocktail hour.

"I sold 'em a bill of goods," Mary
chortles.

pence, a pocket full of blasted dreams
The impasse was bridged by the arrival
of news from one of her spies that Buddy
Rogers air-show starring those anUc
mft.es, Victor Moore and Helen Brod-
erick, needed a new love interest, prefer-
ably an mterest in diminished sevenths
in short, a singer on the hot side The
downcast one joined the horde of appli-
cants and got an audition. She was picked
A weekly trip to the cashier's window
for important money was an intoxicating
delight. When the thirteen weeks of the
original booking were over, Rogers re-
newed her contract. At the end of this
trick, the program was discontinued Once
more the lady was at loose ends.

■ With a revived enthusiasm, she
plunged into her dance studies again
As Christmas time began to approach
she found Texas yanking her pigtails. She
called time out. She flew away home

A winter in Texas with her home folks
and the old nostalgia came over her. In
Weatherford she was getting nowhere.
Far away she heard the familiar call
When the dandelions came, she bought
herself a little yellow roadster and set out
to make her fortune.

Back in Hollywood, and back again to
the eternal one-two-three-four-five, the
machine-gun taps, the dips, the whirls.
For months it went on. Came the June
brides and the suspicion began to take
hold of her that perhaps she wasn't a sen- i
sational dancer. An excellent dancer, yes.
But that was all.

She kneeled down beside her Rubicon,
rattled the dice. Then she plunged in.
There was no turning back. Henceforth
she would be a singer, the likes of which
Hollywood had never seen or heard.

"I'll show 'em," she promised.

It behooves us to mention here that this
rash promise was more than she had bar-
gained for. Mostly
no one cared to listen,
— important, at

"I still believe in you," Number
Three said. "And I'll be talking
Mary Martin every chance I get."
"So long."
"So long."

The Great Victor Herbert is

Mary Martin's first picture

and it gives her plenty of

opportunity to sing as well as

dance lo the gay

familiar tunes of

_- the popular noiig

■ If life had been grim up to this time,
now it became grimmer
Things were now at an impossible low
Mary's real daddy, a judge out in Texas,
had had a stroke, and Mary decided to die
rather than write to him for money. One
night she decided to sing for her supper
at an audition at the Trocadero. famous
Hollywood oasis. Instead of an evening
get-up. she wore an accordion-pleated
skirt with a red belt, set oft bv a batiste
blouse with raffles. Anyhow, she stood
there in the wings waiting for her cue
knees wobbling, while that merry emcee
Joe Lewis, rattled off a nice introduction!
Banked on all sides were dinner jackets
and tails; smart Lelongs, Patous, Vlonnets
and Schiaparellis. She signaled to Un-
hand leader. The orchestra struck up the
opening bars of "II Bacio," or "The Kiss."
For half a chorus she poured out her
golden, dramatic-soprano. All of a sud-
den she turned on that impish smile. Her
eyes danced. Her body began to Sway
And for the first tune on record "II Bacio"
was in the groove, swinging like mud.

The house burst into applause Cheai
rang out. When she came out to take a
bow Jack Benny stood up in a eh. or and
yelled "More! More!" Tyrone Power and
Don Ameche led a miniature cheei Lng sec
tion. It was a minor riot. For forty-five
minutes she sang encores, until the man
agement made the announcement: "Mary
Martin will appear at the Trocadero for a
regular two-weeks' engagement begin-
ning . . ." The din was terrific

More importantly, Agent Number Three
called up, all agog. He had good news
Lawrence Schwab, the producer, had
heard her at the Trocadero and wanted
her to star in a musical he was planning
for the fall, something to be called Ring
Out the New. She said, yes.

To top it all off, a radio impresario
shoved a contract under her nose for a
13-weeks' engagement on the "Good
News" program for the largest salary she
had ever earned in her life.
"It was colossal," she chirps. "I took it."
In the fall, as per schedule, she came to
New York to make Mr. Schwab rich and
herself famous. Here she learned that Mr.
Schwab had had a change of heart. He
had postponed ringing out the new—
indefinitely.

■ As the rain fell on the windowpanes
of her hotel room overlooking Central
Park that very night, she wondered what
the good people of Weatherford would say
when she returned in disgrace. She had
burned her bridges in Hollywood.

She cried a little.

On the third day, as she was "fixing to
go back home," Mr. Schwab called up to
say that he knew a spot for her. A lady
named June Knight had just quit a show
labeled Leave It To Me, about to undrapc
in a fortnight or so. The music was by
Cole Porter, Would she like to try out? Ho
could fix it up. [Continued on paye 64]

Baby Takes a Bow

EMILY \ O li it i s

Another "Thin Man'7 comes to the

screen and graciously gives his first

interview to Hollywood Magazine

William Anthony Poulsen and
William Powell, two "Thin Men"
in a scene from AnotherThin Man

■ It seems the underworld was giving

the Thin Man's baby a party

And park your guns outside, gents.

You remember how, in After the Thin
Man, Myrna Loy sat knitting little pink
things and Thin Man Bill Powell asked,
"What're you knitting those for?" So Mrs.
Myrna Thin Man said: "And you call
yourself a detective!" Well, the even-
tuality in this new picture, Another Thin
Man, is eight months' old "Cuddles." That
is what the rest of the cast called him.

("A fine monicker for a detective's son!"
Cuddles fumed in sign language when we
had a moment alone. That is, alone with
only a nurse or so and a representative of
the Board of Education hovering around.)

Already the guests were arriving, and
that corner of the M-G-M lot looked like a
maternity ward. With sixteen babies
scheduled for the party, of course they
had to have forty-eight babies on hand.
Huh? No, there's no mistake in mathe-
matics. Count 'em yourself.

You see, the law allows a baby only so
much time before the cameras and under
the lights per day. Therefore, to expedite

matters, sixteen of the first group of
thirty-two infants acted as stand-ins for
the other sixteen. The third group of six-
teen were needed, because, according to
law, the first group had to quit work by
two in the afternoon.

To go with the forty -eight babies, there
were forty-eight mothers, forty-eight
nursing bottles, forty-eight "formulas,"
forty-eight sets of didies, eight studio
nurses and a dozen gallons of milk. Before
Director W. S. Van Dyke finished shooting
the sequence he said he felt like a mother
himself.

The idea was that the Thin Man, being
a famous private detective, naturally had
a lot of acquaintances who were pick-
pockets, gangsters, and what not, but who
helped him out sometimes on his more
difficult cases. In return for his kindness
on many occasions when the world seemed
against them, these acquaintances — hear-
ing that the Thin Man had become a
father — decided to throw a party (in a
nice way) for his son and heir.

Each underworld character had been

told to bring his own baby. And each did
with one exception. He being babyless
but eager to join in the festivities, rented
an infant and passed it off as his own.

("This ought to be a warning to people
not to go around renting babies," Cuddles
confided, again in the sign language, as
— rosy and smiling — he contentedly blew
bubbles in his special dressing room while
waiting to go on the set to act as host at
the party. He raised tenuous eyebrows,
mere fuzz really, at a particularly hand-
some bubble and added: "The conse-
quences of that fellow's ill-considered
baby-hiring — glub. Glub, glub, glub —
you'll see, in due time.")

Now, the mugs (and that's the right
word) who were giving the party had
been picked by the casting director for
their rugged features. Rugged? They
looked as if they'd come through a bliz-
zard of broken crockery. One by one the
babes were handed carefully to these
gentlemen an instant before the cameras
turned.

The result, though unanticipated, was a

HOLLYWOOD

tribute to the infants' sense of civic
righteousness even at their tender age.
Without exception they took a look at the
men designated in the script as their
fathers — and burst into frightful howls of
disapproval.

For probably the first time since talking
pictures came in, nobody had to yell,
"Quiet!" as the cameras rolled. The com-
mand wouldn't have been heard, anyway.
Grips, juicers, extras, could not merely
have conversed but given college cheers
and still not been heard above that infant
uproar. The mugs, pale beneath their
makeup, looked terrified.

Things, though, had quieted down a
trifle in the Thin Man's maple and cret-
onne living room, and Asta, the wire-
haired terrier, was making friends with
the guests while Myrna served cake and
the Thin Man bragged about Cuddles,
when word came that a cop was at the
door. Well, you know how it is between
cops and the underworld. The guests be-
gan to depart at once. In the excitement,
the guest who had hired a baby picked up
Cuddles, the Thin Man's child, in mistake
for the baby he had hired.

("He left the rented baby, but Myrna
and Bill didn't want it," Cuddles explained,
placing his toe in his mouth. He went
on smugly: "They liked me better." He
omitted mention of the fact that the
mother of the rented baby brought back
Cuddles, fire in her eye, and demanded
her own offspring in exchange. A nurse
took Cuddle's toe from his mouth and put
a nursing-bottle there instead. "Glub,
glub," Cuddles murmured contentedly,

his bright eyes twinkling his thanks.)

There was always a nurse near Cuddles,
of course. The baby got more care than
Bill Powell himself. Part of the attention
showered upon the baby was prescribed
by statute. He could "work" only four
hours a day. During the four hours he
could spend only four minutes right under
the lights. And he could spend these four
minutes at the rate of only thirty seconds
at a time.

Talk about a star! The baby ordered
Myrna and Powell around with the
greatest complacency. For instance, they
had to be right there, all set for the scene,
before the baby was brought on. No wait-
ing! No wasting one of those thirty
seconds! Fortunately, Director Van Dyke
is a fast shooter.

Then there was the matter of castor oil.
Oh, not taken internally. No. But drops
of casfor oil were put in Cuddle's eyes
before a scene to form a film as protection
from the lights. They were put in after
a scene also, for good measure or some-
thing. And the instant the scene began,
the city welfare worker from the Board
of Education would stand with gaze glued
on a watch. Just try to work the baby
five seconds overtime!

The nurse, as well as mother, saw to
it that Cuddles had his naps promptly,
and his feedings— there was a little electric
plate in the dressing room for heating
milk. The dressing room was as scrubbed
and sanitary as a hospital corner. No, the
salary check didn't have to be sterilized.

("Myrna and Bill said," Cuddles re-
marked, "that it was quite an education

JANUARY, 1940

for them, watching me taken care of, and
taking care of me. In the picture, they
had to change my — ah — underthings. They
didn't know how, at first." He gave a
toothless grin. "I had to laugh.")

[ The entire cast laughed at Myrna and
Bill somewhat later, though the laugh
had nothing to do with Cuddles. It had
to do with two surprise parties on the set,
in addition to the one given to Cuddles
in the script. Myrna and Powell have
birthdays within a few days of each other,
and three or four times it has happened
that they worked in a picture together on
those days. It's become increasingly hard
for them to surprise each other, but this
time they outdid themselves.

On his birthday Bill was about to go
before the cameras when somebody told
him that a Mr. Gwynn, friend of one of
the M-G-M producers, was waiting in
Bill's dressing room. "But I can't see
him now!" Bill protested. "You must,"
the messenger insisted, "He's a friend of
So-and-So." "All right," Bill said, ex-
asperated, and rushed to his dressing
room.

When he threw open the door, there
stood a live penguin, dressed to resemble
Powell, studying itself seriously in the
mirror. Upon its back, turned toward the
door, was a sign: "Happy birthday from
one Thin Man to Another." Powell burst
out laughing. "Well, he has my nose and
chin," he remarked. On his return to the
set, he found tables decorated and ready
for the big party that followed the day's
shooting.

Came Myrna's birthday, and she was
determined to be surprised at nothing.
But right away Bill surprised her. Nailed
on her dressing room door that morn-
ing when she arrived was a great
printed notice: "SURPRISE PARTY FOR
MYRNA LOY — COME ONE, COME
ALL!" At noontime, a town crier walked
across the set, ringing his bell and
announcing that there would be a sur-
prise party for Myrna. In the course of
the afternoon, they turned on the radio
during a rest period and heard several
local stations sing: "Happy birthday, dear
Myrna" and announce a surprise party
for her. By the time the party started,
after the day's work, nobody in town in-
cluding Myrna was unaware of the fact
that Myrna was going to be very much
surprised. Asta the terrier was at the
party. So was Duke.

Duke is a huge Irish wolfhound when
he stands on his hind legs, he is around
seven feet tall. In one scene, he was sup-
posed to greet Powell menacingly with
his paws on Powell's shoulders. Powell
loves dogs and vice versa. Duke, affec-
tionate in proportion to his size, wouldn't
menace. He insisted on trying to lick
Bill's face. "In place of a necktie, I'll
have to' wear a strip of bacon so it'll look
as if he were going for me," Powell
suggested. [Continued on page 65]

Myrna Loy manages the two "Thin Men"
with admirable fairness in a scene
from the newest comedy in the series

,**»'

aw lias a pur,
pace ;il which lie i himself, but

il is not fame he's after,
do with a sun-drenched

II v JACK M OS III: It

Artie Shaw with the hot clarinet which is the delight of
the jitterbugs in the new musical film, Dancing Co-ed

| "He's likely to say anything," his
manager warns as you head for a
dressing room, door marked "California,"
backstage at Broadway's Strand, where
his band packs them in so tightly you
couldn't even find a seat in the Smoking
Room. "You'd better get the drop on him
before he gets it on you."

So you charge through this door marked
"California" prepared for anything but
this well-groomed, immaculately-clad and
collegiate-looking boy who sits all humped
up in one corner of a couch with pencil
and paper in hand, and who snaps by way
of greeting: "Leave me alone a minute,
can't you? I want to work this out."

"Okay, Artie!" you say. Because this
is Artie Shaw, known to the milling,
dance-mad millions of America as "New
King of Swing." He is the bad boy who
eats three live jitterbugs for breakfast

every morning, talks back to music pub-
lishers and record barons, even dares to
call Hollywood movie moguls nasty names.
And you have no sooner picked up a
book lying on the dressing room table —
it's titled Vagabond Voyaging and open at
page seven, the point where the schooner
is just passing Sandy Hook headed for
points tropical and glamorous — than Artie
exclaims: "There's a man who's got the
right idea!"

Then he lets you have it. He talks fast,
this fellow Shaw, and the jittery quality
of his actions lend support to his remarks
about wanting to get away from it all and
really enjoy life. "A lot of people think
I'm a big success," he flings at you. "They
think I'm a success because I've got a good
band. Because I'm on top of the heap.
Making thousands every week. That's
why you came to write a story on me.

Well, let me tell you something . . ."
Then he tells you that he was born in
New York's East Side, called by Crooner
Crosby the East Side of Heaven. That
ever since he was knee high to a music
stand, and used to sit in cheap seats at
Broadway shows, he's wanted to be some-
thing. "First of all," he says, "I wanted
to blow a horn." So he bought one in a
mail order house. A set of five lessons
came with it. They were the only lessons
he ever took. The family moved to New
Haven, and after playing around with a
local band which died the death, Artie
headed for Cleveland where he played
with Joe Cantor, then Austin Wylie. He
won a newspaper contest with an essay
on Cleveland Air Races. The prize was a
trip to Hollywood, where, at nineteen, he
got going with Irving Aaronson, then play-
ing at the {Continued on page 66]

How to Become

a Swimmer

Marjorie Weaver insists the best
way to become a swimmer is to
try your hand at bowling. These
pictures prove that there may be
some sound wisdom in her words.
Her next picture for 20th Century-
Fox is The Honeymoon is Over

A look of hope always
accompanies the swing

But she forgot to learn
how to release the bowl

Rolling for a strike.
Fun? Her favorite sport!

Her first trip down the
alley looks like . . .

Lesson 1 shows correct stance and
three-fingered grip, a grim look

Below, Ah, this is more like it.
At least the sand is safe and soft!

Canadian
Cousins

Anion;: the most valuable imports
from the good neighbor across our
nor I hern border are these stars

Deanna Durbin
Winnipeg, Manitoba

Raymond Massey
Toronto, Ontario

John Qualen
Vancouver, British Columbia

Katharine DeMille
Vancouver, British Columbia

Walter Huston
Toronto, Ontario

Berton Churchill
Toronto, Ontario

Gene Lockhart
London, Ontario

Fay Wray
Wrayland, Alberta

Walter Pidgeon
East St. John, New Brunswick

Ruby Keeler
Halifax, Nova Scotia

Bobby Breen,
Toronto, Ontario

Rosina Lawrence
Ottawa, Ontario

Ben Blue
Montreal, Quebec

Cecilia Parker
Fort William, Ontario

Ann Rutherford
Toronto, Ontario

Douglas Dumbrille
Hamilton, Ontario

Mary Pickf ord
Toronto, Ontario

Producer Jack Warner
London, Ontario

Donald Woods
Brandon, Manitoba

Norma Shearer
Montreal, Quebec

^•fllC

Bl*e

Bi**

"Set

The filming of Maeterlinck's fan-
tasy is the most fascinating enter-
prise in Hollywood at the moment.
Shirley Temple's most spectacular
film will be ready after Jan. 1

By JESSIE HENDERSON

■ Over the hilltop with the vast, moonlit
sky behind them came Shirley
Temple and Johnny Russell, hunting for
the Blue Bird. They were bound for the
region of their first search, the Land of
the Past — and here it was, right at their
feet. A graveyard!

Perhaps the hesitation with which
Johnny followed Shirley under the arch-
way of a crumbling chapel and along the

path that wound among ancient, lichen-
crusted tombstones, wasn't wholly acting.
Johnny is only six, and the slanted stones
with their blurred dates shining pale and
silent from shadows where the moon-
beams did not penetrate looked so real
you couldn't believe the set had been
tossed together by the property depart-
ment just for Maeterlinck's story.
Tylo, the dog (Eddie Collins in a brown

fur suit) ran away scared. But Tylette,
the black and white cat (Gale Sonder-
gaard), simply loved it and went gliding
around the graves with a smug smirk.
She's the villain of the piece, forever try-
ing to get Mytyl (Shirley) and Tyltyl
(Johnny) into trouble . . . and generally
succeeding. On velvet paws she soft-
footed about the monument with the
Greek figure, and the small grave that

HOLLYWOOD

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(Cece»a ^

1. SJP* " be«o»»d\?

3F- .11, not to »f Ue cb«-

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The cat Plot* 8»irits o£ "\ Hatto

^° tne >voodc««^e1f
from tHe

had the little angel with a broken wing
to watch above. ... A bad 'un, Tylette.

This graveyard set, which occupied an
acre of sound stage, afforded a nice
technicolor contrast in gentle greens and
grays washed by silvery blue moonlight
to the sets full of richer hues in which the
film abounds. There are, by the way, no
horizons in the scenes through which the
Blue Bird search wends its eventful way.
Only the great sky is roundabout, giving
an effect of floating in air and lending
a dreamlike quality, a Maxfield Parrish
atmosphere, in harmony with the story
itself.

Briefly, the story is this. On Christ-
mas Eve of the year 1809, Mytyl and her
brother Tyltyl return home with a thrush
which they have trapped. Their home is
a modest cottage in the Tyrolean village.
Twentieth Century-Fox Studios built
the village on the back lot with such
faithfulness to detail that a real Tyrolean
would start yodeling at first sight. On
their way up the village street they look

JANUARY, 1940

enviously into shop windows
full of toys and lament the fact
that their father, a wood
chopper, isn't rich. You see;
they are two very self-centered
youngsters. From her bed at
the window, ailing young
Angela (Sybil Jason) begs
Mytyl to give her the thrush.
Mytyl selfishly refuses.

This is the first time Shirley
has played a meanie. She
entered into the role with zest,
and found it all the more fun
because at the end of sequences
in which she was hateful the
picture crew hissed her,
whereat she laughed heartily
and hissed them right back.
It's the first time she's had her
million dollar curls pulled, too — but more
of that later.

At supper, Mytyl complains of the food,
of their poverty, until her whining is sub-
dued by news that father must leave to-
morrow for the army, since war threatens.
After she and Tyltyl are in bed, imagine
their surprise when Fairy Berylune routs

Home at last, and with the Blue Bird!

them out to go search for a Blue Bird.
Berylune sends Light (beautiful Helen
Ericson in snowy robes and long flaxen
hair) to help them, as well as the dog and
the cat, transformed into a stocky man
with a bulldog jaw and a slim, sinuous
lady in black with white gloves, a big
red bow on the [Continued on page 48]

Second Generation

| Time was— and not so long ago, either

— when the Hollywood version of that

immortal lament from Act One, Scene

Four of Shakespeare's King Lear went

like this:

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
to have a child.

In short, the movie moguls reckoned
that "idskay were ixnay" and that it was

Hal -Roach, Jr. and sister Margaret bear
a very close resemblance to Hal, Sr.

Famous names of illustrious
parents are of no help to
the younger set's careers

KOLMA FLAKE

the better part of wisdom to keep it a
deep, dark secret that maybe matinee idols
fall in love and get married and raise
families just like anybody else. The fore-
men of the film foundries figured that the
surest way to wreck a glamour boy's
glamour — or whatever they called it in
those days — was to let the public know
that after working hours he was a loving
and respectable husband and father.

Take Francis X. Bushman, for instance.
It would never do, his bosses decided, to

James and Russell Gleason are
another pair of look-alikes

let word get around that when this statuesque Apollo rode down
Hollywood Boulevard in his spectacular, lavender limousine, bowing
and smiling to phalanxes of swooning lady customers, he was prob-
ably on his way home to the wife and kiddies — five of them. (Kiddies,
that is.) There was much weeping and wailing and teeth-gnashing
when the awful truth became known and Hero Bushman stood
revealed in his true colors as a thoroughly respectable and highly
devoted parent.

But even in Hollywood, turn-about is fair play. And it is signifi-
cant to note that by the time young Francis X. Bushman, Jr. had
grown up to be something of a celluloid menace himself, the taboo
against the rising generation was off. When a romantic singer of
love songs like Bing Crosby proudly displays not one, not two, but
four baby boys for all the world to see — and adds to his box-office
prestige by doing it — you are pretty safe in assuming that the stars
and their Simon Legrees have agreed at long last that parenthood
isn't such a glamour-killer after all.

The irony of the turn-about previously mentioned is this: once
the stars were afraid of damaging their careers by admitting they
had children; now the children of the movie great are afraid of
injuring their own careers by admitting they have a famous father

They look alike and use the same name, but Noah Beery, Jr.
is a romantic juvenile, while his father is a jovial heavy

HOLLYWOOD

or mother! Believe it or not, the kids are
getting so they're almost ashamed to con-
fess that the spry old gentleman with the
boudoir eyes and the seven-figure income
is ole pappy.

| Whether or not it's a hangover from
the not-so-long-ago when stars' chil-
dren were kept under cover, the fact is
that until recently the sons and daughters
of Hollywood luminaries have found it
very tough going indeed, trying to crash
the movie gates. Look at young Doug
Fairbanks, son of one of the biggest names
in Hollywood history.

Doug, Jr. hit the jackpot two years ago in
Selznick's The Prisoner of Zenda when he
played the dashing Rupert of Hentzau.
But he had put plenty into the movie slot

and worked in small roles. Gradually he
rose to starring roles.

"I tried to be myself in the first Dawn
Patrol and in Union Depot," he explained,
"but I couldn't escape the dreadful feeling
that I was basking in my father's reflected
glory. I felt as though I had been tied to
a. comet's tail, and been warned to hang
on as long as possible.

"A vacation trip to Europe helped me
to think it over, and then I came back to
Hollywood for Morning Glory with
Katharine Hepburn. But the problem was
still unsolved, and I took time out again
for a journey across the Atlantic."

In England, he played in Alexander
Korda's production of Catherine the Great
with Elizabeth Bergner. On the stage, he
appeared opposite Gertrude Lawrence in

Moonlight Is Silver. Then he became as-
sociated with Criterion Films, Ltd. Word
came back to Hollywood more and more
frequently that his work was well worth
watching.

Wise, canny producer Dave Selznick
cabled him an offer of the role in Prisoner
oj Zenda. With his usual care and pre-
cision, Dave Selznick re-presented Doug
Fairbanks, Jr. to the motion picture au-
diences. And instantly a new star was
born ... a star who had licked the handi-
cap of too much pull in Hollywood. Then
came such pictures as The Young in Heart,
Gunga Din and [Continued on page 50]

DeWolf Hopper, the 2nd, bears a strik-
ing likeness to DeWolf Hopper, the 1st

machine before he turned up the lucky combination. The Selznick
production was his fourth entrance into the Hollywood scene.

Doug says, "Most boys think of emulating their fathers. Naturally,
I did too. Father could outrun, outjump, outduel and outdo anyone
within the range of my experience or imagination. There has not
been a star like him. I doubt that there ever will be. Of course I
wanted to be like him, and of course I always was compared with
him. And of course I got a tremendous build-up in my first part,
just because I was Doug, Jr."

That first part was Stephen Steps Out when Doug, Jr. was
fourteen. The production had been launched to the din of terrific
publicity, and it sank with a gurgle.

Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. had been opposed to his son's wish to
become an actor. He wanted the boy to choose engineering as a
profession. So, in Paris, after the disastrous flop of Stephen Steps
Out, Doug, Sr. said, "Do you still want to be an actor? Well, you
don't have a chance against all of this ballyhoo. Get down to real
work and build your way up instead of trying to imitate me or
anyone else."

So back to Hollywood came young Doug. This time he refused
any starring offers. Instead, he entered Paramount's stock company

Doug, Jr. had to make four entrances into the movies before he
could convince Hollywood he wasn't trading on his famous name

JANUARY, 1940

Santa Is a Headache

Just as you and I, the stars worry about finding
just the right gifts for friends, but their lists con-
tain hundreds instead of dozens of names. This
story tells you how some of them meet the problem

EDWARD CHURCHILL

H Most of us think that Santa Claus is a reasonably nice guy. This Yule-
tide he will bring from us to mama a quilted dressing gown, papa a new
pipe, and Aunt Tessie that bedspread she's been ogling in the window
down at Jones' department store. He brings us a pair of bedroom slippers,
a new handle for the car's gear lever and a couple of shirts. Maybe a tie
from Cousin Susie in Detroit we plumb forgot about, and is our face red.
We add up the score, find that it's just about fifty-fifty give and
take, sigh and settle down for 365 more days.

But in Hollywood it's different. Today, Santa is the middle-man
in a far from sentimental sandwich. He's coming along shortly with
that great big bag a few weeks after those scintillant people have
been nicked for city, county and state taxes on their property. And,
while Santa is exchanging from reindeer to a fleet of trucks just
beyond the Hollywood hills to better carry the load, producer and
player, star and director, are all thinking of income taxes, come
March.

Yes, Santa is looked forward to. Sort of like a poor relation
you don't like much, but that you have to make room for, on
account of what people would think if you didn't.

Stars now working in pictures are the unhappiest. For come
Christmas Eve, there is that big party for the company on the
set, and the tariff is terrific.

"If I don't give presents to the people I'm working with," the
player is saying, casting a jaundiced eye on the calen-

dar to see how close March really is, "they'll figure I'm a heel."

So there are gifts. It's a safe bet that no star is able to get off a Christ-
mas Eve set without parting with at least five hundred dollars in gifts,
and the bill may run as high as five thousand. The stars are good sports
about it, too. And, in spite of the economic problem which Santa presents,
they really get a kick out of the happiness they give.

Carole Lombard, Claudette Colbert, Barbara Stanwyck, Clark Gable,
Alice Faye, Tyrone Power and Bing Crosby are just a few among those
who really give Santa free rein — and love doing it.

Consider your gift layout, with the score now being added up as Yule
approaches, and then turn quickly to that of Bing Crosby. Bing,
who started shopping last August, and who began calling in
the neighbors and friends to help wrap in the fall, is behind the
eight ball to the tune of from fifteen to twenty thousand dollars.
This figure is accurate but not official, as Bing is not the sort of
guy to shout about what his kindness costs him.

"Bing," says a pal, "buys presents for Dixie, his wife, and four
children; Larry's family, including two children; Everett's wife
and child; Ted's family of three children; Bob's family
of two children; Mary Rose's family of one child; Cath-
erine's family of one, and his father and mother.

"Add to this his friends at the several studios
where he works, including Columbia, Paramount
and Universal; half a dozen servants; eighteen
members of his radio band; fourteen members of
his radio cast and production staff; about 100 per-
sonal friends, a couple of hundred people working
on his current picture with him, and you begin
to get some idea."

Dixie Crosby is now out shopping for a tree
to fit the big house near Toluca Lake. Huge :

tables in the lower rooms of the house are
piled high with gifts. Christmas morning will be
a bedlam of noisy excitement. And the thought-
ful Crosby will have one table piled high with
gifts for people who just drop in — everything you
can imagine, from cufflinks to overcoats — and
he'll lead each guest to the table and say: "Take your pick."

Bing, while up at the top, is no outstanding exception as
a gift-giving star. Harold Lloyd will be giving away turkeys
into the hundreds, an annual custom. With some turkey
will be a fifty dollar bill. For some, there will be gold belt
buckles, and other gifts. [Continued on page 62]

Mr. and Mrs. Frank Hajmas-
sey, parents of Ilona Massey

lloiia Massey, beautiful Hungarian star
of Balalaika^ recently requested her
family in the old country to send her a
set of new pictures. Here they are, and
we think the whole family is charming

Everything Happens At Night

DEAR EDITOR:

This is the first time in my writing
life that I ever started off a story by
introducing the weather, but, lady,
how well do I remember those hot
days of last September!

If that's poetry you can make the
worst of it because the weather got
the best of me.

Sunny California! Lady, that sun
came pouring down so fierce for ten
days that it curled what hair I got on
the top of my head into a permanent!
Those ultra-violet rays violeted me
so badly that I'm still shedding blis-
ters off a my anatomy! Lissen! When
dat ol' Debbil Thermometer hit 108.4
degrees I sat in the shade of a pepper
tree, held an umbrella over my head
and still got sunburned!

And then what happened?

Well, I musta been crazy with the
heat because just as soon as I learned
that Director Irving Cummings was
going to shoot some ice skating scenes
in Sonja Henie's Everything Happens
At Night picture I thumb my way out

Right, Robert Cummings fights on
in Everything Happens at ISight

In which our favorite extra dis-
covers I Ik; I " Ouch " sounds just
exactly the same in any language

By E. J. (ICEMAN) SMITH SOW

***m&

to 20th Century-Fox, and I see a nice,
gentle character by the name of Jack
Mulcahy who does chores in the
publicity department, and I tell this
nice gentle character that I want
work. So he goes and sees his boss,
Harry Brand, and Harry does a little
phoning and in no time at all I'm out
on Stage 15 which is a cold storage
plant. The whole floor is made into a
rink with ice six inches thick, and I
say to myself, "Here's where I live
until the hot spell is over." A thin-
faced gent, clad in a fur overcoat and
overshoes, barks, "Hey, you, get some
skates that'll fit and limber up. I want
to see what you can do before I give
you a spot in this skating routine
we're about to practice."

Well, I get me some skates the right
size, and I sorta sneak out on the ice
with fifty other guys and gals, and I
do me a figure eight and a couple of
inside and outside rolls and the guy
in the fur coat whose name I find out
is Nick Castle, the dance director,
says, "Okay, [Continued on page 44]

Sonja Henie and Ray Milland in a
warm scene on a frozen sound stage

■

"*>c

-^#* -iri

Beauty Budget Gifts

ANN VERNON

Jean Parker appears
next in RKO-Radio's
film, Flying Deuces

Are you ready tor the holiday parties?
Or are you still bothered with some
beauty problem? Ann Vernon will
help you solve it. Write her today,
enclosing a stamped, self-addressed
envelope for reply. The address: Ann
Vernon, HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway, New York City.

| The cosmetic counter with all its holiday
wrapped beauty aids is a boon to anyone
doing Christmas shopping with a budget in
mind. Gifts of cosmetics can be just as glam-
orous as the stars posed on these pages, and
as inexpensive as you wish — those shown here
are all under $3, some as low as a quarter!

Jean Parker, left, smiles her approval of
Hudnut's Marvelous set, complete with smart
double compact, lipstick, face powder.
Above, 1. A gift to please a man and his face,
Woodbury's Shaving Bowl and After Shave
Lotion. 2. Luxor's Hand Cream, out in new
rose and white packaging, comes in a large

HOLLYWOOD

size, grand for family use. $1. 3. For the
Women in Your Life, Cutex Junior and Cutex
Trophy Sets, $1 each. The sets are smart on
the dressing table, the polish on the hands.

4. You might consider Elmo's Travel Kit if
she's a week-ender. It's a bargain at $2.50.

5. Two cakes of fragrant Cashmere Bouquet
Toilet Soap and large bottle of Lotion, in an
attractive gift box for 55 cents. 6. Don Juan
Lipsticks, $1 each, come in smart shades,
tuck in stocking toes. 7. A giant size of Bath-
asweet, in Forest Pine or Garden Bouquet
scents, softens and perfumes bath water. $1.
8. Schiaparelli's Bath Sponges dilate into
washcloths when wet, scent the skin
subtly with Shocking perfume. Ten
for $1.50. 9. For after-bath dainti-
ness, give Houbigant's Quelques
Fleurs Dusting Powder and matching
Eau Florale Concentree. $2. 10. The
Duke and Duchess glass statuettes
contain perfume by Erte, make nice
gifts for a young cousin. 11. Any teen-
year-old will love Lady Esther's Travel Set
Gift Box, containing small sizes of powder,
rouge, lipstick, jar and purse-sized tube of
Four Purpose Cream. 40 cents. 12. Park & Til-
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markably like very expensive French scents
— and costs only a quarter. 13. A leak-proof,
spill-proof and evaporation-proof purse per-
fume container and dispenser is Atomette. It
comes in a variety of color combinations, and
costs only a dollar. Rosemary Lane, right,
knows that her House of Westmore Kit of
Color-Filtered Make-Up will keep her skin
looking glowingly fresh under all lights. The
green and gold kit contains powder, foun-
dation cream, dry rouge and lipstick.

You'll find all these gifts at your favorite
toiletry counter. For inexpensive, attractive
gifts for the family, See Cosmetics First.

JANUARY, 1940

Rosemary Lane,
whose next part
is in Four Wives

Everything Happens at Night

[Continued from page 41]

you with the sunburned snozzle." Right
away I feel all set and very happy indeed
to have this chance to make a little jack
while I'm in cold storage avoiding the sun.
But there is something missing. I take a
good gander all around the stage, and I
don't see anything of that cute little trick
from Oslo, Norway. I don't have much
time to look for Sonja Henie because this
fur-coated Nick Castle begins telling us
what we're supposed to do. Pretty soon
we're skating in circles, skating in straight
lines by twos, fours, and sizes, all simple
little figures that require merely balance.
We do that a dozen times, maybe more,
maybe less, and my gimps are beginning
to knot up having been off skates for a
couple of years. Then this Castle in fur
coat starts rehearsing a skating routine
that has more stops and starts in it than
a split second street signal. Right away
I make a three-point landing on the seat
of my britches, and everything's okay
until I give a repeat performance on the
fourth try. So this Castle barks a halt and
says "Hey, you, (pointing a long finger at
me) we don't want any backsliders
around here!"

He didn't give me the grand bounce
right out of the picture, but said I could
stick around until some skiing shots were
ready. So I took off my skates and quit
backsliding, and I look over at Sonja
Henie's portable dressing room just off
the rink a ways, and do I get myself a
shock! There she is in an embrace close
as the two hands of a clock when it's 12
with Robert Cummings. It was a very
amorous embrace and I was all for running
right over to her ma and do some tattling
when I notice Director Irving Cummings
in the corner of the dressing room, and I
realize that he is rehearsing Sonja and
Bob in the big love scene they were to film
later on in the picture.

Fifteen minutes later Sonja is on the ice
ready for her part in the skating routine
and, lady, what a swell scene it will be — a
beautiful rhumba number. Before she
really rehearsed, though, Sonja spent half
an hour doing her limbering up exercises
and that, in itself was a show that was
worth five bucks of anyone's money. She
went through her school figures first, then
some fancy "free" skating, then pirouettes,
and followed that up with all of the in-
tricate dance routines she had done in all
her previous pictures and on her skating
tours. It's a wonderful show. She flies
through the air like a pretty little feather
blown by a spring breeze, and even Mama
Henie, sitting close to the rink, smiles and
claps her hands. Even the hard-boiled
prop boys shouted their approval when she
was through.

When this rhumba number was finished
we had to wait with nothing to do while
the skiing set was being fixed up. I was
prevailed upon by Al Carroll, one of the
prop men, to go shopping in Hollywood
for a four-foot toboggan. Well, the two of
us go downtown, and the clerks of the
sporting-goods stores look as though
we're more than something "fluffy" in

asking for toboggans. One guy even called
the cops thinking we had escaped from an
asylum. In another store one appre-
hensive clerk ushered us both into a back
office while another clerk went to call for
a receiving hospital ambulance on the
supposition that we had lost our sanity
due to the heat. When Al finally ex-
plained what the toboggan was for, the
ambulance call was cancelled and we were
ushered out with profuse apologies! But
we finally got the toboggan. And Al got
himself such a bad case of heat prostra-
tion that when he came back to the set
he became so ill that this time there was
no fooling. An ambulance DID take him
off for treatment.

-Fawcett photo by Charles Rhodes.
When Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom and
Binnie Barnes appeared at the L. A.
Ad Club Show, Slapsie Maxie wore his
shoulder pads just to show that he
is positive football is here to stay

| Here's a production note that may
give you a lifted eyebrow. It con-
cerns 73-year-old August Tollaire, the
eccentric French comedian. August is the
only genuine milk-bather in Hollywood.
Director Cummings brought him back to
the screen after an absence of four years.
The old fellow is quite a sight with his
double-peaked long white beard. He is
as chipper as a cricket and looks as clear-
skinned and as bright-eyed as a man of
fifty. His explanation for his extreme
alertness and nimbleness is his daily
routine of reading, a long brisk walk- —

and a milk bath daily for his white
whiskers! No fooling, lady, at four that
afternoon on the first day I worked, I saw
a prop boy come in with four quarts of
milk and a deep tin bucket and I saw old
August let down his long white beard
and give it a shampoo!

B Well, back to the picture. Come five
o'clock that night and the quitting
whistle, I use my noodle. Stage 15 being
as cool as a nice, deep ocean, I decide to
remain overnight, so I complain of a slight
headache to Director Cummings who is a
swell guy. So he says, "Stay here with
me and Bob Cummings and Ray Milland.
We're camping out here until the freeze
comes. Just bunk yourself down any-
where! So I get dinner sent over from
the studio cafe and around eight o'clock,
after fixing a place to sleep in a set rep-
resenting a hotel in Switzerland, I join
the director and the two actors in a game
of bridge. With Milland for a partner,
I knock off more than eight bucks before
midnight. The second night I squeeze on
a couple of little slams, and at midnight
I'm five bucks to the good. On the third
night I grab off eleven bucks which ain't
hay these days. Harry Brand learns
about it and he fixes it up so the book-
keeper sends me by special messenger a
bill for board and room amounting to
twenty-five bucks — but you know me! I
don't fall for that kind of a gag, and I
keep my fingers glued to my jack.

In Everything Happens At Night (and
a lot during the daytime) Bob Cummings
and Ray Milland (my old bridge partner
and a no-trumper from way back!) play
American and British newspaper corres-
pondents trying to run down a story in a
small town in Switzerland. As they walk
down a street, a skier comes toward them
at great speed. They haven't time to
duck, and the three end in a scramble in
the snow.

They can't tell the sex of the skier,
and Cummings, raising his fist, says:
"Take off those glasses, I ought to paste
you!"

"You just try," indignantly says Skier
Sonja, taking off her goggles and hat.

"How dare you lay hands on a lady!"
says Ray, recovering first from the
dazzling glimpses of her yellow hair and
blue eyes, and from then until the end of
the story it is a matter of bitter competi-
tion between the two men for Sonja's
affections.

B While I'm on the subject of skiing,
let me tell you that I had a terrible
time for myself when I got smart and
tried to test out the ski slide.

This ski business took place on an out-
door street set representing good old
Switzerland in the winter time. A long,
inclined street it was, and it had to be
covered with real snow because Sonja
had to come down it full tilt.

The snow was manufactured in a special
machine which crushed blocks of ice, and
sprayed it all over the set in the form of
snow. It took 40 tons of ice for the first
application, and after each "take" the
street had to be freshened up. As I must
have told you, it was pretty hot. That

snow kept melting about as fast as the
machine spread it on. Director Cummings
finally had to get another ice machine.
Apparently nobody but me and Sonja
ever had skis on before, so I was the goat
when it come to testing the slide. I
started all right, but when I came
whizzing down I made a slight mistake,
and kept right on going. I went through
Switzerland, Germany, and part of
Austria in record time, so Director
Cummings said. I also went right through
a set that represented a Zulu village, and
when I woke up, I had skis in my hip
pocket and part of a thatched roof down
my throat.

■ According to both Cummings and
Milland, it seems that when an Eng-
lish actor tries to become an American,
and an American actor tries to become
an Englishman, the net result is — Holly-
wood.

On comparing notes, so they told me,
both of 'em found that they had followed
exactly opposite courses in search of a
career, yet both ended up not only in the
same business but also on the same
identical set.

Born and educated in Joplin, Missouri,
Cummings studied in New York and
Chicago for the theatre, but when success
didn't come his way, he decided that the
only thing to do was to get a genuine
English accent inasmuch as English actors
were getting all the breaks on the New
York stage.

"That was why I sacrificed an insurance
policy for $600," Bob said, "and made my
way over to England. I bought a motor-
cycle and traveled the length and breadth
of the country, studying accents."

Bob's crowning maneuver was to have
his picture taken in front of a small Eng-
lish theatre, and send it to American pro-
ducers with the message that one Blade
Stanhope Conway, actor, author, pro-
ducer, and manager, was open to Ameri-
can offers. The funny part about it is that
it worked.

On the other hand, Ray Milland, born
and educated in England, decided that the
only way to start his movie career was
to go to America, travel all over, and so
pick up American accents and dialects.
The upshot of it was that he finally de-
cided on and cultivated a Southern
accent, but it wasn't long before he found
out, just as Cummings did, that he could
do better if he stuck to what he was
originally.

"Even now that I am becoming an
American citizen," Ray said, "they still
want me to be an Englishman as far as
my roles are concerned!"

And so this double masquerade and ex-
change of nationalities ends up with
Robert playing the role of an American
newspaperman with overtones of his
native Missouri accent, and Ray as an
English newspaperman, using his own
native dialect. Me, all I said for the
cameras was "Ouch!" and that's the same
in any language.

P.S. I made more money playing
bridge than I did working in the picture.
Seems sif I'm doing all right for myself,
hey?

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Rhapsody in Green

[Continued from page 18]

amiable David Fitzgerald, bright young
Dublin attorney, who told me of Geral-
dine's first theatrical venture at the age
of eight as producer-director-star of a
pithy little piece called The Talking
Indian, in which he, as an older brother,
had been prevailed upon to assist.

| For three days I talked with scores of
friendly folk who had known Geral-
dine in her pigtail days but try as I would,
I could not catch up with the elusive
Geraldine herself for an interview. Either
she was at one of the race courses where
rich and poor alike gather at the altar rail
of Ireland's second religion. Or else she
was on her way to or from the great coun-
try house down in County Kildare which
she and her husband had just bought and
were redecorating, the while visiting
around between kinfolk and friends.

And then finally, one breathtakingly
beautiful evening, when the fields were
washed an emerald green by the mist, and
the cows stood breast deep in the dew,
and the herons were crying above the
blue, blue lakes, and over the whole coun-
try-side there was that air of half-magic,
half-music, that is Ireland's soul, I jour-
neyed down the long, winding, tree-lined
road to Newbridge and found Geraldine
and her husband, tall, genial Edward
Lindsay-Hogg, at home in their new
estate, Moorfield.

■ It's a lovely place, this Moorfield; a
great, imposing three storied grey
stone house, built, part of it, in Cromwell's
time. It looked to me as if it once might
well have housed one of the hard drinking,
hard riding, Anglo-Irish lords of the
Georgian age, who swagger across the
colorful pages of Donn Byrne's novels.
Atmosphere hung on it like ivy.

They had taken it, I gathered, because
it is just a bugle's note away from the
Curragh, the most famous race course in
Ireland, and Lindsay -Hogg, wealthy
young second son of an English baronet,
trains horses when he isn't writing music,
haunting little melodies that have been
compared to Jerome Kern's more thought-
ful things.

It was Lindsay-Hogg who met me when
I arrived at Moorfield and it was he who
led me through spacious rooms that were
filled with the ladders and paste and paint
pails of the decorators, but even so, gave
a tempting hint of the gracious air the
whole house would wear when it was
finished. In the most inviting den I've
ever entered, before a fireplace in which
coals were burning when Hollywood was
still lit by Indians' campfires, Geraldine
Fitzgerald stretched out two trimly bro-
ganed feet and relaxed into the mellow
memories of an Irish girlhood.

The turf on the fire gave out a sweet
smelling scent that seemed to summon
up images of yesterday that were as bright
and gay and appealing as the merry
crackle of the smoldering sod.

She was born, said Geraldine, begin-
ning on the conventional opening note
of any biography, in Dublin, September

14, 1914, the second child of Edward Fitz-
gerald, and Irish barrister whose wife was
a daughter of Justice Richards. On both
her father's and her mother's sides, her
forbears have been jurists of note.

When Geraldine was eight, the family
moved from Dublin to Greystones, in
County Wicklow, down by the Irish Sea,
where the heather and the gorse roll down
the mountain side like a carpet of purple
and gold to the sandy shore.

The Civil War, which long had been
smoldering in Erin, had reached the stage
where Dublin was no longer safe, and
Geraldine's last memories of her child-
hood in Dublin are highlighted by the
hysteria that gripped the capital.

"Our nursery was on the top floor of
our house on Fitzwilliam Street," Geral-
dine recounted, "and almost every night

Ceraldine Fitzgerald snapped on ship
board with Mrs. Orson Welles

we could hear the patter of snipers' feet
running over the roofs, and then a round
of shots. It was a gruesome, frightening
experience, especially for a child.

"The last day our nurse took us into
Stephen's Green, the public park which
is to Dublin what Central Park is to New
York, or Kensington Gardens to London,
I remember seeing a great trench dug up
on the lawn where we used to play, and
a soldier coming up to our nursemaid and
saying: 'Don't come back tomorrow!' The
next day there was the first pitched battle
of the rebellion right in the middle of
Stephen's Green.

"But if we were sorry to leave Dublin,
we soon found solace at Greystones for
here we were by the sea and had the
whole outdoors as a front yard."

It was at Greystones that Geraldine
first gave signs of her interest in things

theatrical with her parlor performance
of The Talking Indian, but for the most
part outdoor games held her attention;
games and painting.

"By the time I was twelve, I was a pretty
wild youngster," Geraldine cheerfully
admitted. "And the family, to insure my
growing up into the proper sort of young
lady, sent me off to a convent in London.
Most Irish girls loved the idea of going to
school in England. But I hated it. I
hated the discipline. I hated the uniforms
we were forced to wear. I hated being
stripped of every bit of individuality.

"Each vacation time, I was no sooner
home than I would begin a violent propa-
ganda campaign on my parents. Finally,
after two years, they capitulated to my
pleas and withdrew me. I still consider
it one of my greatest debts to them. Most
parents would have said I was being just
a silly schoolgirl, and urged me to adapt
myself to the convent. But they under-
stood my dislike and brought me back to
Ireland.

"The next fall I entered the Dublin
Metropolitan School of Art, firmly con-
vinced that I was destined to become a
great painter."

For three years Geraldine's nose was
tipped with paint, she kept it so constantly
close to her easel and palette. She was
certain her things were good, even if none
of her instructors broke out with verbal
bouquets.

Finally at the end of her course, her
mind full of plans for continuing her
studies in Paris or London, Geraldine
went to her teacher, Sean Keating, an
Irish painter of considerable renown.

"Where would you advise me to go
now?" she asked.

"Go off and get married," was the ravish-
ing reply.

| It was like flinging a challenge at the
spirited young redhead, that sugges-
tion she sentence herself to domesticity.
Her answer to the advice was to dash off to
London and enroll in the London School
of Art, meanwhile supporting herself with
a varied procession of jobs which ranged
from modeling to selling tweed suits in a
fashionable Regent Street Shop.

"And then one night," said Geraldine,
"I had a terrific toothache, and, as I sat
up nursing it, I held sort of an inventory
on myself and decided that what I really
wanted to do was not to paint, but to
become an actress.

"Bright and early the next morning,
forgetting the toothache, I trotted around
to the little repertory company I knew
and hunted up the company manager.

" 'I want to be an actress,' I told him.
What can you do for me?'

" 'I'm afraid we can't do anything for
you,' he grimaced. 'We've gone bankrupt
and are closing tomorrow night.'

"Now that I was certain I wanted to
go on the stage, I realized that the one
person who could do the most for me was
my Aunt, Shelah Richards, who was one
of the stars of the Abbey Theatre in
Dublin. So back to Ireland I went."

Shelah Richards decided the first step
in any dramatic career for her pretty
young niece was a thorough training in

voice and technique and enrolled Geral-
dine in the Abbey's School of Acting.

When she was graduated from the
school, six months later, Geraldine was
offered a part in one of the Abbey pro-
ductions, but instead joined the Gate
Theatre, the other repertory company in
Dublin, and made her stage debut in the
role of Isabel in Wuthering Heights, the
part she one day was to make outstanding
in Hollywood.

For two seasons, rich in experience and
variety of roles, Geraldine played with the
Gate Theatre and then, on a summer's
vacation in London, was offered a bit in a
British film which led to leads in Turn of
the Tide and The Mill on the Floss, two
films which had a flurry of success in
England but were not released here.

"What finally waked me up with British
films," Geraldine explained, "was the utter
lack of appreciation by the company I was
working for.

"They were giving a special premiere
of The Mill on the Floss, one of those
charity openings which Queen Mary or
some other one of the royal family was to
attend and make an event.

"I wasn't notified of the opening, much
less given a ticket, and somehow this one
small discourtesy seemed to symbolize the
whole indifferent attitude of the British
studios.

"I vowed I was through with pictures
and all they represented and for a year
I deserted the screen and the stage en-
tirely."

— Fawcett photo by Charles Rhodes
Joan Crawford and Franchot Tone
attended Morton Downey's opening
at the Cocoanut Grove together,
but they still deny a reconciliation

■ The most important result of this

rebellion on Geraldine's part was that

it led to her marriage to Lindsay -Hogg,

whose persistent courtship had until then

been forced to take second place to
Geraldine's bid for a career.

For a honeymoon trip, the couple
decided to go to New York.

"I wanted to see if it was as charming
a place as The New Yorker pictured it,
full of Robert Benchleys, Dorothy Parkers
and James Thurbers," Geraldine joked.

Whether or not she bumped into Bench-
ley on that trip, Geraldine didn't say, but
she did meet Orson Welles, who, having
played at the Gate Theatre a season while
Geraldine was away from Dublin, had
heard of the redheaded actress' talents.
He put her in the Broadway production
of Heartbreak House, where Hollywood
movie scouts "discovered" her.

"And the rest you know," concluded
Geraldine as the turf on the fire burned
low.

Part of the rest, I knew. How her stun-
ning performance in her first American
film, Dark Victory had sent every pro-
ducer in Hollywood scurrying to Warner
Brothers to try and borrow her; how
Samuel Goldwyn had won the race and
Geraldine for Wuthering Heights, and how
Warner Brothers then recalled her for
the lead in A Child Is Born.

What I wondered as I travelled back
the moonlit road to Dublin, what I am still
wondering, is whether or not Hollywood
will be able to hold this restless, vivid
personality any more securely than the
British studios did. I hope so. Holly-
wood needs Geraldine Fitzgerald. She's
everything those Irish tenors described.

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On "The Blue Bird*9 Set

[Continued from page 35]

back of her neck. And so begins one of
the loveliest tales ever spun, packed as
full of subtle symbolism as a good plum
pudding with raisins.

At the outset of their search, the chil-
dren discover at shivery midnight in the
graveyard that there are no dead. Pass-
ing by the headstones of their grand-
parents, they see grandpa (Al Sheean)
and grandma (Cecelia Loftus) asleep be-
fore their cottage door. They rouse to
wakefulness as the children's thoughts
turn toward them. But, in spite of a
splendid visit at grandma's, Mytyl and
Tyltyl do not find the Blue Bird in the
Land of the Past.

Straying away from Light, they go with
wily Tylette, the cat, to the Land of
Luxury. No Blue Bird. Thence, still
under wicked Tylette's guidance, to the
Forest — where, during an electric storm,
the forest catches fire and Tylette perishes.

Light meets them beside the lake at
dawn, and points them toward the Land
of the Future. This is the exquisite
cloudland of blue and pink and fleecy
white where the unborn children live.
Here, for example, they meet the little
sister who will, in course of time, come
to join their family. They are watching
a galley with silver sails take away the
children to be born on earth next day.

On Christmas morning they awake,
home again. Tylo, to their astonishment,
is plain dog again. And they can hardly
believe their eyes when they behold
Tylette demurely lapping milk . . . ap-
parently she lost only one of her nine lives
in the forest.

Glancing with appreciation and con-
tentment at the familiar faces and the
familiar home brimful of love, Mytyl sees
that the thrush captured the day before
is no longer brown. It is the Blue Bird!

Joyously she seizes the cage and
hurries down the street to present the
bird to invalid Angela. Strengthened by
happiness, Angela leaves her sickbed to
receive the gift. The two little girls want
to hold the Blue Bird in their hands, and
thus Mytyl learns the final lesson —
happiness cannot be confined nor com-
manded; it must be free. The Blue Bird
escapes. But Mytyl tells Angela not to
worry — they can always find it again!
And so the picture ends.

■ Of all the 15 sets, which Richard Day
and W. B. Ihnen designed, the biggest
and most imposing is that for the bar-
oque palace of Mr. and Mrs. Luxury
(Nigel Bruce and Laura Hope Crews).
Twenty - four draughtsmen worked 4
weeks on plans. A large proportion of the
5000 items of set furnishings built for the
picture by the prop department were
used in the Luxury's home.

Shirley reveled in that home, figura-
tively and literally. In the first place, the
hallway had a double staircase with wide,
smooth, marble balustrades down which it
was a pleasure to slide. As a matter of
fact, Mrs. Luxury slid down a balustrade,
landing on a huge silken cushion at its

foot, when she came to greet Shirley.
Mrs. Luxury's gown was a marvelous
velvet affair, and she was so bedizened
with necklaces and chains and ear-rings
and whatnot that Shirley stared open-
mouthed.

Dear, dear, Mr. and Mrs. Luxury were
all of a-flutter at thought of adopting a
boy and girl. Shirley got out of her sweet
little peasant costume, a purple cloth
skirt, a crisp blue apron, a white puffed-
sleeve blouse with a laced black bodice,
and into a velvet gown nearly as impos-
ing as Mrs. Luxury's. Johnny was put
into white satin knee breeches. Waiting
for a "still" closeup in these clothes,

Nelson Eddy spends his time between
scenes for Balalaika (that accounts
for the Russian blouse) with his new
hobby, modeling portraits in clay

Shirley shoved Johnny, and Johnny
shoved her, and she shoved him again . . .
Shirley's at the slightly tomboy age, and
cuter than ever. Perhaps she was getting
into training for the fight.

■ That fight! It occurred after the
Luxurys gave the children a pony.
Johnny wanted to ride it, and Shirley
(that is, as Mytyl, you know) wanted
to ride it first. Shirley pulled Johnny
off the horse and Johnny got a firm clutch
on Shirley's curls, and they rolled over
and over in an ecstasy of rough-and-
tumble, both having the time of their
lives. Afterward, they were supposed to
be mad at each other, but in rehearsals
they kept tickling each other and bursting

into giggles when they were expected to
look angry.

At the age of 10, Shirley felt very
motherly toward Johnny, who is four
years younger. She was worried espe-
cially about a turtle somebody had sent
him. She advised Johnny as to the
critter's diet. "And don't drop it on the
floor," she added, "account of con-
cussion."

As for Johnny, he's the son of a New
York newspaper man and somewhat pre-
cocious. They were discussing Hitler.
"I don't think," said Johnny in his careful
English, "that he's a very desirable
person." A few minutes later he pulled
one that halted production. After gazing
solemnly at pot-tummied Eddie Collins
(the dog Tylo), he observed: "When you
laugh, Mr. Collins, your whole body lights
up."

Poor Tylo's whole body didn't light up,
however, in the Luxury's palace. They
banished him to the doghouse and both
Mytyl and Tyltyl selfishly forgot him
while they slept in beds of incredible
ornateness. But Shirley climbed from
her lonesome, gigantic bed with its bro-
caded canopy, and pattered into the bed-
room of Mr. Luxury to tell him she was
homesick.

When Shirley came to the threshold
of Mr. Luxury's room, she paused. And
no wonder. It's a purplish red room.
There's a colossal red and white rug on
the floor. The woodwork is white and
gold, carved within an inch of its life.
The silver bed has heavy, creamy satin
draperies. There's a fireplace the size
of the Grand Canyon, of white marble,
with alabaster urns full of big pink, purple,
and garnet flowers beneath a mirror as
big as a skating rink. A great crystal
chandelier, too. Restful? That bedroom
is so restful it would knock you uncon-
scious, merely to look at it.

■ Before Shirley made her appearance
there had been a flurry of activity.
Nigel Bruce sat on the sidelines, being
given the gout by the make-up depart-
ment by means of yards and yards of
bandages around his left foot. Mean-
while, his stand-in sat in a satin easy-
chair wearing a replica of Mr. Luxury's
costume — a white dressing gown brocaded
in gold and edged in sable, plus a white
nightcap with a lavender tassel, and an
ebony cane with an impressive gold knob.
The stand-in is famous in his own right.
He is Captain George Hill, a friend of the
Bruce family, formerly Chief Inspector
of Police in Edinburgh, Scotland, and
decorated by King George V for thirty
years of brilliant police service.

Finally, Nigel Bruce hopped clear across
the bedroom on one foot, to keep the white
bandages from getting soiled, took his
place in the armchair, and the scene began.
Mytyl, though wearing a beauteous pink
nightgown of satin trimmed with lace,
was crying. (Shirley can cry whenever
she pleases. Real tears.)

They decided to take an extra crying
scene, just for the sound track; just in
case. Shirley sat on the gorgeous bed
and sobbed until your own eyes watered.
Right in the middle of a heart-breaking

sob, she paused to look up at Director
Walter Lang and inquire mischievously
through tears streaming down her face:
"How'm I doing?" before she resumed
her lamentations. If there's one talent
better than another which Shirley
possesses, it's her sense of humor.

| After the crying sequence was over,
and Shirley had received the bottle
of soda pop which she has every after-
noon, the picture advanced to the scene
where Tylette conspired against the
children with the old Oak Tree in the
Forest. Tylette, you understand, hadn't
wanted to leave the Land of Luxury, and
she didn't want to go home where she'd
turn back into a cat that couldn't talk.

Before she slipped off by herself, how-
ever, Tylette had a run-in with Tylo the
dog. She curled her white-gloved fingers
into claws and went ps-ss-t-tt! at Tylo.
Tylo thrust out his lower jaw in such an
exact imitation of a bulldog and growled
so fiercely that Shirley and Johnny
laughed right out, and had to be warned
to quiet down so that the cameras could
roll.

When the cameras started, and the
children with the dog climbed the steep
path leading to the Forest, Tylette took
a shortcut across the fields in order to
reach the Forest first. It was a pretty
sight to watch Director Walter Lang show-
ing Gale Sondergaard how to slink over
the fence and tiptoe through the grass.

He succeeded in looking so much like a
sinuous cat full of crafty enterprise that
you wanted to yell, "Scat!"

A few seconds later, strange sounds
issued from Shirley's dressing-room.
Possibly inspired by the Tyrolean village
on the back lot, Shirley was practicing
the art of yodeling. It sounded a bit as if
she were seasick.

| With Shirley still yodeling, the com-
pany moved over to the north lot for
the forest sequence. This was a really
terrifying scene. The studio had taken
every precaution so that neither of the
children would be hurt, and so that during
the forest fire not so much as one hair of
a million dollar eye-lash should be
singed. Just the same, you kind of
cringed as the heavy branches lashed out
at the youngsters during the wild wind-
and-thunder storm, and as the fire
crackled and roared.

The special effects crew built both a
large lake and a forest of 1,000 trees. They
wanted conifers with big trunks and with
foliage something like cedars, and the
easiest way was to whip up a batch of
them in the plaster and carpenter shop.
The tree they invented would do credit
to Luther Burbank. In fact, it went Bur-
bank one better because it was equipped
with mechanical gadgets which allowed
an inflammable liquid to run out and
catch fire — and to be turned off when
necessary. Though the children seemed

to rush through the conflagration, they
were protected by screens and half a
dozen other safety devices. A scene of
splendor, this: the dark green forest
twisted by the tempest, lit by the vivid
lightning and the gush and billow of
orange and crimson flames.

The forest fire raged to the accom-
paniment of stirring music, arranged under
the leadership of James O'Keefe. As
in the other sequences, the music was
written especially for the picture, since
the Humperdinck score (written for the
stage play) was not used. In certain
episodes, such as the Land of the Future
and the Land of the Past, a full symphony
orchestra was augmented by electrical
instruments, invented by the studio sound
experts, which are said to produce tonal
effects beyond the capacity of ordinary
musical instruments.

It was after the last note, after the last
crackle of the forest fire had died, after
the escape of Mytyl and Tyltyl and the
dog, that Shirley — once more in the pretty
blue and purple peasant costume — ap-
proached Eddie Collins, the dog's imper-
sonator. She held forth a small, paper-
wrapped package, her eyes a-twinkle.

"Thought you might be hungry, after
all that racing around," she said.

Collins unwrapped the package. It
contained a bone.

"Somebody out on the lot got it away
from Lynn Bari's dog," Shirley explained
with a chuckle.

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TO KEEP SKIN SOFT, SMOOTH. YOUNG

Second Generation

[Continued from page 37]

now Ruler of the Seas to make him one of
the busiest romantic stars in Hollywood.

Doug himself comments, "My return for
Zenda actually marked the beginning of a
new career. I felt at last I was on my own
feet, standing or falling by my own merit."

The second generation of motion picture
stars forms a fairly substantial group in
Hollywood. Only Douglas, Jr. has at-
tained in his own right the rank of real
stardom — the type of stardom which comes
from the vast motion picture public, not
just studio billing.

| Playing opposite Ginger Rogers in
Fifth Avenue Girl is Tim Holt, son of
veteran Jack Holt. Approximately the
same age and a close friend of Tim is
young Hal Roach, Jr. now producer of the
Laurel and Hardy four-reel comedies. In
part, their story should be told together.

A few years ago, the two boys decided
they would like to enter a noted military
academy in the Middle West. Officials of
the school apparently expected two
spoiled, arrogant lads. Before the appli-
cations for entrance were accepted, the
officials very forcefully warned that no
special favors of any kind were to be
shown to the boys by the school.

Tim tells of "little" Hal's first day of
football practice. A coach — probably with
Hollywood antipathies — s aid to Hal,
"Think you're tough?" Upon the lad's
"Tough enough" reply, the coach said,
"Okay, boys, give him the works for
tackling practice!" Only the school's star
football player was able to knock the
embryo motion picture producer off his
feet.

Tim himself overcome prejudice in short
order, too. Both boys were quickly ac-
cepted whole-heartedly by the student
body. Hal was graduated with the school's
highest honors as an all-around student.
Tim ranked in the upper ten per cent of
the class scholastically and was an im-
portant member of the school polo team
for two years.

After school was over, Tim entered the
acting game via little theatre productions.
Two years ago, Walter Wanger recom-
mended him to Sam Goldwyn for a role
in Stella Dallas. Following this came pic-
tures for Wanger, Warners, Paramount
and RKO. Now under contract to RKO,
he has been steadily coming forward and
the role in Fifth Avenue Girl is his best
to date.

Tim says his father's work wasn't dis-
cussed much around home so he remem-
bers little of his childhood reactions to
pater's fame. One incident which stands
out, however, is the time he and his young
sister, Betty, were taken to the theatre to
see their father in Wanderer of the Waste-
land. Came a scene wherein the hero
wandered along hungry, thirsty and com-
pletely desolate. When he moaned, "I must
have food!" Betty cried out anxiously,
"Come home, daddy, come home! We
have lots to eat!"

"We still don't talk much about picture

work at home," Tim comments. "Dad
says every player must have his own dis-
tinct personality. He feels that whatever
effort he might make to help me would
boomerang into a hindrance. Instead, he
stresses one piece of advice. That is,
'You're only as good as your last picture!"
That naturally makes a fellow realize that
he has to do his best every time."

| Suspicion might point out that Hal
Roach, Jr. stepped forward so quickly
from fourth-assistant director to producer
because he works in his father's studios.
But seeing father and son together, you
realize that merit plays the major role in
this advancement. You realize that son
is out to lick father at his own game, just
as he has been brought up to compete with
his father in all lines of sports. Hal Roach,
Sr. is no slouch in athletic contests. Hal,
Jr. can just about whip his dad in physical
competition now. Three years ago, a
wrestling match between the two ended
with two cracked ribs for Hal, Sr.

A year later, he capitulated to his son's
determination to work in the studio.

Young Hal says, "When I was a kid, I
got to visit the studio only on Saturdays
and then only if I had been good all week.
When I was sixteen, I wanted to quit school
and start to work immediately. The boss
wouldn't let me. He insisted on my finish-
ing school. When I finished school, he put
every possible barrier in the way of my
working here. We made a bargain. I
could work all summer and then we'd see
what I should do in the fall,

"Well, believe me, I worked that sum-
mer. I got all the 5 a. m. calls and worked
until the last person was ready to go home
at night. While I was allowed to five at
home, I was expected to live on the salary
of a fourth-assistant director on the Our
Gang comedies. I hardly got a single meal
at home because I was working all the
time. About all I had use for was my bed
and the shower. It wasn't easy but I liked
it.

"When fall came, I was still determined
to work instead of going to college. Well,
since then, life has been a little easier.

"I'm fortunate in getting started more
easily than the average person. But the
boss will throw me out if I don't earn my
salt. The boss feels that you have to earn
every step of your way if you are to be
happy or successful in your work, no mat-
ter what it is. As a result of my up-
bringing, I have a deep love and respect
for the industry I'm in. And it's just as
much work for me to follow in my father's
footsteps as it is for a doctor's son."

Two veteran Roach prop-men, Charley
Oelze and Bob Saunders, neatly compli-
ment this young lad who refers to his
father as "the boss." Charley says, "Listen,
every man on this lot is for him 100 per
cent. We all helped raise him. We know
he didn't listen — he learned!" To which
Bob adds, "Yeah, it would take an eight-
ton truck to knock him off his feet and that
wouldn't keep him down more'n two sec-
onds!"

■ Noah Beery, Jr. found that his father's
fame presented two problems. Noah,
Sr. was a jovial heavy, while the son is a
juvenile, romantic type. At 23, the younger
actor has gone through serial, western and
dramatic roles. Through hard, heart-
breaking work, he seems to have estab-
lished a definite personality of his own.
As Joe, the cocky, gamin, ill-fated young
pilot in Only Angels Have Wings, Noah
Beery, Jr. won the plaudits of fans and
critics both.

Lon Chaney, Jr. has been struggling
persistently for five years to make his own
niche in Hollywood. He has worked
against a barrier drawn by producers and
the public both.

He says, "I am expected to have the
ability and experience that it took my
father 35 years to get. It took me a while
to realize that. I have had plenty of ups
and downs in the past five years.

"Things looked rather dark profession-
ally a few months ago. Wally Ford had
sufficient love for my father and the
courage of his convictions to cast me as
Lennie in Of Mice and Men in the west
coast production. Critics opinions were
very good and I feel that out of that will
come something.

"If I had the appearance for more ro-
mantic roles, it might have been easier.
But my appearance and my talents are in
the same direction as my father's. He is
quite a person to live up to. It isn't his
ability I have to live up to so much as it
is his special fitness for the picture era
in which he worked."

As a result of the Steinbeck play role,
young Chaney was cast in a good role
at 20th Century-Fox in Frontier Marshal.

■ DeWolf Hopper, son of the late DeWolf
Hopper and Hedda Hopper, acknowl-
edges definitely that his parents' fame has
helped him. He uses the family name
rather than another. He says, "If I'm good,
my stock is automatically boosted 100 per
cent. If I'm bad, well, it undoubtedly
works against me. But if I do click, it
will mean ever so much more. So I'm
taking the chance."

Hopper, now under contract to Warners,
has a stage background of his own. He
has done a number of stage roles including
parts in Order Please and Romeo and
Juliet with Katherine Cornell. In addi-
tion, summer stock woi-k with the Walter
Hertwig Company in Maine and the Star-
light Theatre in Pawling, N. Y., has given
him more experience.

Russell Gleason, whose comedy por-
trayals have been well recognized for
several years, had been on the stage inter-
mittently since he was three months old.
His motion picture debut came almost
simultaneously with those of his parents,
Jimmy and Lucille Gleason. Russell's
latest role on his own is a featured comedy
part in Here I Am a Stranger at 20th Cen-
tury-Fox.

Fred Kohler, Jr. used to want his
parentage kept a deep, dark secret.

"I remember very distinctly," he com-
ments, "When I was about twelve years
old, I used to go to the neighborhood

theatre. My father played the heavy
in almost every serial. I was scared to
death the other fellows would find out he
was my father. As a result I used to yell
and hiss the loudest of all — with my fingers
crossed, of course.

''But one day, the boys found out my
secret. Even my best friends turned
against me. They wanted to kill me as a
means of getting revenge on the character
my dad played. I can still hear them
shouting, "Look out for him! Don't have
anything to do with him! His father's a
killer and he'll be just like him!' For quite
some time, catcalls and rocks were my lot
in life."

Recently small fry hissed the son as
furiously as the small fry of another gen-
eration hissed his father. They were show-
ing their disapproval of the bully in
Young Mr. Lincoln.

f3 Margaret Roach, eighteen-year-old
daughter of Hal Roach, talks freely.
She illustrates her difficulties by an inci-
dent which occurred while she was a stu-
dent in a convent. Cast originally in the
leading role of a Gilbert, and Sullivan
opera, she was replaced with someone of
less prominent parentage for fear the
presentation would turn into something
more than a school function. Here was
the same objection to come for some time
— too much spotlight when a spotlight
shouldn't be used.

Having studied dramatics with Ben Bard
and singing with fine teachers, Margaret
started working as an extra about a year
ago. After a few months, she was engaged
to sing in a popular night club. Although
a hit with patrons, she was discharged
when the State Board of Equalization
(California's liquflr license bureau) ob-
jected because she was under twenty-
one. Without her father's prominence,
Margaret's age would probably have been
unnoticed. Now, after small roles in Union
Pacific and Captain Fury, she is slated for
an important part in RKO's Dr. Christian.

| The point is, anybody who thinks you
"can get by on the old man's name"
in Hollywood is crazy. Instead of pushing
you right up to the top rung of the ladder
of success, they'll probably step on your
fingers — that is, until you've proved that
you can take it the way the old man did.

So if you're the daughter of a famous
actress and you have designs on -a Holly-
wood career, you'd better keep mum about
mummy — until you've got started in your
own right and through your own efforts.
And if you're the son of one of yesterday's
matinee idols and have the same ambitions
and everybody knows it, there'll un-
doubtedly be plenty of occasions when
you wish you could pop Pop the way his
fame cracked down on you.

But if you are so tempted, don't do it.
Just remember that twenty years ago,
when the old gentleman was standing them
in the aisles, you were as much of a head-
ache to him as he is to you. And when
you get to be a star in your own right, be
glad that you can tell everybody about
your grandchildren, if you want, and it
won't hurt the box office by one slim
dime. Friends, that's progress!

KEY YOUR

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1 1

5
16

■

•

■

ACROSS

1. A star of What a Life.

5. He had lead in Espionage Agent.

10. Range is a Hopalong Cassidy film.

12. On Your (sing.).

13. Tomorrow Comes.

15. To register sorrow in sound films. 7.

17. Honeymoon in . S.

19. Star of The Star Maker. 9.

20. Pack Up' Your . 11.

21. Initials of late Mr. Moore. 14.

22. Child actress in Intermezzo. IS.

23. No Place to . 16.

24. Sound made by M-G-M's L,eo. 13.
26. Mr. Curtis, but not Alan. 24.

30. Baby Sandy is one. 25.

31. The Girl No. 27.

33. In Name . 28.

35. Willie Haller in Stop, Look and Love. 29.

37. Here I a Stranger. 32.

39. Dixie Dunbar was born here (abbr.). 34.

41. Katherine Mille. 35.

42. Mother. 36.

45. The Man in the Mask. 38.

47. Marty Collins in They Asked for It.

48. Gloria in Eternally Yours.

49. His first name is Jeffrey.

50. Theatres display these (colloq.).

52. Frances Langford's birthplace (abbr.).

53. Mark Twain character who has appeared on

DOWN

54. Whose role is that of Judg

Hardy?

(Solution on

1. Wall Street .

2. Reginald's surname.

3. Higgins in Fifth Avenue Girl.

4. Miss Risdon's initials.

6. Katharine Hepburn's birthplace (abbr.).

7. Holden's screen father in Golden Boy.

The Glory.

Her last name is Skipworth.

A Child Is .

They Gave a Gun.

Ginger Rogers is one.

Gladys in The Housekeeper's Daughter.

Million Dollar (sing.).

Sigrid Gurie's latest film.

Calling Marines.

You saw her in Hotel Imperial.
Roberto in 24 Down.

Nightingale.

Whose role is that of Rhett Butler?

Rudy Vallee attended this university.

Constance in Flirting with Death.

Garbo enjoys this sport.

Month in which Herbert Marshall celebrates

birth.

40. Malcolm Grant in Rulers of the Sea.

41. First name of a star of Hollywood Cavalcade.

43. Krazy Kat's nails (sing.).

44. She had title role in Lady of the Tropics.
46. Tommy Higgins in Should Husbands Work.'

51. Initials of Miss Filers.

52. Measure of film (abbr.).

page 64)

Hollywood Newsreel

{Continued from page 6]

inches in length. Later, when they were
alone in Lizzie's boudoir, the kiss was
more ardent and lasted two feet. This
film editor revealed that he uses his
sissors when a kiss lasts longer than two
feet.

"In the days of silent pictures, screen
kisses were much longer," the film editor
said. "Kissing was one of the best
pantomimic tricks to arouse the emotions
of an audience, as well as to add up the
film footage. I have seen kisses 12 feet
long in the silent days. Sound, of course,
shortened movie osculation. You can
imagine what a 12-foot kiss would sound
like today, when you consider that a foot
of film runs for one second on the screen."

The shortest kiss is the friendly peck,
or goodbye-at-the-station kiss, which is
seldom more than six inches long.

The longest kisses are the honeymoon,
the June-moon kiss of tender love, and
the till-death-do-us-part kisses. All of
'em run at least two feet on the screen.

Among the screen stars Bette Davis and
Ann Sheridan are known for the longest
kisses. Olivia de Havilland's are the
shortest.

Well, as you can imagine, we were quite
impressed by this kissing knowledge. We
were quite curious, too. We wondered
how our girl friend would re-act if we

Herbert Marshall and Ginger Rogers in
one of the dramatic moments of a
Woodbury Playhouse broadcast suffer
for the mike. Hurry up, television!

walked up to her and said: "Hey, sugar-
plum, howzabout giving us a five-footer?"

H It's become a family affair. Jimmy
Cagney started his screen fame by
knocking the daylights out of his leading
ladies. Now his sister, Jean, making her
film debut in All Women Have Secrets,
hauls off and slaps down Peter Hayes, her
leading man.

Si Four Daughters last year, Four Wives
this year — and now the three Lane
sisters and Gale Page are scheduled to
take on the roles of four godmothers. This
time, however, in real life, when they be-
come private-life godmothers to Claude
Rains' infant daughter, Jennifer. Rains
played the girls' father in both pictures.

■ Humphrey Bogart's sense of humor
took to backfiring during the making
of Invisible Stripes. Before he knew it
he had been changed from an actor into
a property man.

Bogie found a pair of bright and shiny
handcuffs on the set and playfully
clamped them on the unsuspecting wrists
of property man, "Red" Turner. Then he
discovered that the key to the cuffs
was missing. Red was helpless so Di-
rector Lloyd Bacon sentenced Bogart to
do the property man's chores and for
two hours thereafter, Bogart ran errands
for Bacon and George Raft and hustled
props until the key was found.

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| You'd be surprised if you knew what
our screen stars really like to do on
those evenings they have free from
worries about rent, household bills, de-
pendent relatives and work.

Take Ann Sheridan, for example. The
"Oomph" gal loves to get into a long, low
motor car of rakish lines with a favorite
companion (Jimmy Stewart, Cesar
Romero are running neck-and-neck just
now in the race for Ann's companionship)
and drive along the Malibu Beach road.
Then back again for a supper snack and
a little hoofing at one of those cosy little
spots out on the Sunset Strip.

Paul Muni is a pinochle addict. He'd
play the game all night if his opponents
across the table could stand the pace. He
plays a mighty wicked game, too. One
night he says he lost $1.25!

Eddie Albert is an inveterate sitter-
downer at drug store soda fountains. The
habit goes back, he says, to his boyhood
and young college days in Minneapolis
when he was a soda jerker. Eddie lives
in a neighborhood of just ordinary, quiet
citizens who like to talk about the
weather and the war, and what the foot-
ball teams are doing. The corner drug-
store is their nightly gathering spot.
There, at the fountain, sits Eddie three
evenings a week when he can.

Humphrey Bogart plays croquet at
night. But not the simple little game

grandpappy knew. He plays a game that
has all the hazards of golf and a lot more.
The course is laid out on his spacious
grounds, with arches sometimes 150 yards
apart.

Pat O'Brien spends most of his evenings
in the photographic dark room of his
home finishing prints he has made during
the day.

H Hoping to film some animal life
movies, Ian Hunter took advantage of
a few days off from a picture for a trip
to the High Sierras. Here, he had been
told, he would get the finest pictures of
animals in their native habitat that could
be found in this country. But Hunter
saw no more than one chipmunk on his
whole five-hundred-mile trip. But just
as he got back home and was turning his
car into the driveway of his Santa Monica
home he nearly bumped smack into a
deer standing right at his garage door!

B Funniest sight of the month: Tony
Martin, romantic singing star whose
duet partners to date have been beautiful
movie, radio, and light opera prima
donnas, trying to sing a duet with a
monkey! This scene should be a rib-
tickling highlight of Passport to Happi-
ness, Tony's forthcoming musical comedy.
And while we're on the Martins, Tony
and Alice Faye had a real house-warming

Virginia Field and Cesar Romero do a rhythmic rhumba for one of the dance
hall scenes in The Cisco Kid and the Lady while extras look on with interest

shortly after they moved into their new
home in Encino. A fire of unknown
origin almost burned it down. Save for
a pair of bedroom slippers, a fur coat and
a house dress Alice's wardrobe went up
in smoke.

| Humphrey Bogart is one actor who
does things differently. Next summer
he's going to have Hollywood's most novel
bath house.

Humphrey bought himself an old circus
wagon, a red and gilt affair on four huge
wheels that once upon a time housed a
lion. The bars, the actor says, are going
to be left as they are, but he will put up
wooden sides when changing clothes.

"In addition to being portable," he
claims, "I can get sunshine through the
bars and eat my lunch two feet above the
sand."

| We owe Hollywood Cavalcade, the
20th Century-Fox production, an-
other debt of gratitude besides the
pleasure we derived from seeing it. The
picture has brought that grand purveyor
of laughs, Mack Sennett, back into
activity. He will make a comedy series
for Twentieth Century-Fox along the
fun lines of the old (and still good) Key-
stone Kop shenanigans.

| John Payne, essentially a shy young

man, had his most embarrassing

moment of the month while he and his

missus, Anne Shirley were lunching at
the Brown Derby. In the middle of the
meal, a woman with a determined look
in her eye, barged up to their booth. With
nary a comment she put her hand on
John's shoulder and punched. "Just
wanted to see if they're padded," she ex-
plained. "Ha Ha, they're not. I win!"
John's blush was exactly six shades
deeper than the strawberries the waiter
placed before him.

H One of the most human fan stories
on record concerns Bobbie Breen and
a boy sixteen years old who lives in
northern California.

The juvenile star and the boy became
acquainted through the mails several
years ago, and as time went on Bobbie
learned much about him. He was an in-
fantile paralysis victim. His throat was
affected, and he was unable to speak
clearly. Bobbie invited the boy to Holly-
wood for a visit, implored his parents to
submit the case to local physicians. After
innumerable check-ups their opinion was
that nothing could be done to help him.

But Bobbie was not to be discouraged.
He took the boy to his singing teacher.
Together they worked out throat exercises
similar to those practiced by singers. The
boy has been diligently working at them
for months — and with miraculous results.
For the first time since he was stricken,
he is able to speak a little. It's one of
those stories that one hears all too rarely

in Hollywood — but sometimes it DOES
happen here!

| We've got a much different opinion
of Greta Garbo since we stood beside
her at the automobile show. Dolled up in
an outfit that would have knocked a
sassiety dame's eye out (and probably
did) Garbo looked like a million bucks and
was easily the finest looking gal at the
show that night. Clad in a blue dress
with blue hat to match (don't ask me
what kind of material it was or how it
was made!) she certainly was a vastly
different-looking Garbo from the Garbo of
the mannish-tailored suits. Funny part
of it was, she looked so different that she
wasn't recognized and had the time of
her life inspecting the new 1940 models.

| Remember Constance Worth? The
ex-wife of George Brent? Well, she's
still in Australia where, under the name
of Joy Howarth, she's in a Red Cross unit
that expects to see front-line service in
France.

H Hollywood smarties who are making
"book" on the Ann Sheridan-Litvak
romance are offering even money that the
marriage takes place early in the year.
Ann says there is nothing to it, that
Anatole is just a good friend, and no
marriage is in sight, that she's going to
enjoy her freedom for a long while before
ever heading to the altar again. That's
Ann's word and you can take it or leave it.

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Insist on Hygeia, the
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Ruth Terry, 18 year old songstress, is one of the big moments in Ladies Knotc Too
Much, according to glowing reports from those who watched the filming of her swing
numbers with the chorus. She heads the feminine cast opposite Pat O'Brien

A Puppet Comes to Life

[Continued froyn page 23]

sequence was outlined by means of
about eighty drawings, each carrying
balloons containing the dialogue. These
sketches, which showed merely the
highlights of the action, were thumb-
tacked to large pieces of wallboard which,
after final approval in the various con-
ference rooms, were moved bodily to the
director's office and hung upon the walls.
The sequence resembled nothing quite so
much as a gigantic newspaper comic strip.
The director walked around his office,
reading the funny papers, and not laugh-
ing. Then he got together with the sound
effects department, his animators, the cast
which was to speak the dialogue, the
music, prop, paint and scenic depart-
ments . . . and everybody began to inch
the picture along.

Most of the inching was done by the "in-
betweeners," who are just what their name
implies. In-betweeners are those young
men who have gone through a six months'
training in the Disney Animation School
up on Vine Street and have survived. The
director gave each In-betweener two pic-
tures. Let's say he gave Johnny In-be-
tweener drawings No. 8 and No. 9 off the
wall board. No. 8 showed Pinocchio and
the whale, Monstro, on the ocean floor.
Pinocchio was almost swallowed. There
was horror on the little puppet's face, and
nothing but determination in Monstro's
gaping jaws which were just about to close.
No. 9 showed merely the whale, wearing a
tight-lipped expression of complete satis-
faction. Johnny In-betweener, working
with transparent paper on his illuminated
drawing board, traced model picture No. 8,
and then retraced it again and again and
again — perhaps a hundred times — each
drawing varying just a trifle from its pred-

ecessor and making those finely graded
changes so that the movement would come
a little closer to model drawing No. 9 that
completed that particular bit of action.

Every character in Pinocchio had his
own private unit of animators. One entire
unit was devoted to J. Worthington, or
"Honest John" Foulfellow, the Fox; an-
other to Geppetto, the kindly old wood-
carver; another to Cleo, the goldfish;
another to the Blue Fairy; another to
Stromboli, the unscrupulous puppet
master; another to Figaro, the kitten.

Figaro held up production for quite a
while. At first he was just an ordinary,
garden-variety cat. And nobody was satis-
fied with him. He was too common. Then
one of the animators, who is a rabid cat
fancier, began drawing kittens. For weeks
he drew, until he achieved a masterpiece
of all that is fluffy, adorable and mis-
chievous in kittens, and then he began to
animate it. When the rushes of this ani-
mation were shown, Mr. Disney and his
entire staff fell on their knees and wor-
shipped. The old cat was torn up. Every-
body in the studio is starry-eyed over be-
whiskered little Figaro and predicts that
he will be another one of those minor
characters, like Dopey, that unexpectedly
take the public by storm. Figaro presents
a nice contrast to Giddy, the feline villain
who works hand-in-glove with that arch-
villain, the Fox. Giddy was born on the
wrong side of the fence — and looks it.

An interesting item about the Disney
studio is that everybody's work is so
closely related that every employe on the
lot goes out at twelve sharp for lunch and
returns at one. Nobody can work without
everybody else on hand. One does what

■M

he can, passes it on, it is improved or
changed, and passed on again. Everything
works on sort of a slide rule. Each stroke
of a pen, each function of every depart-
ment, every note of music, every word of
dialogue, moves of any kind that anybody
makes in the studio, all inter-lock.

While the director walked around his
office reading his private funny paper;
while the Johnny In-betweeners made
millions of drawings wafting Pinocchio
from one adventure to another; while the
character department developed poses and
expressions for the characters in the pic-
ture; while some genius in the prop de-
partment discovered that a barrel filled
with gravel and turned around on a handle
sounded exactly like a stagecoach going
over a wooden bridge; while the musical
director timed the picture and the score;
while the inking department transferred
the drawings to sheets of celluloid; while
the scenic department drew thousands of
backgrounds and the spirit of Walt Disney
brooded over all — the paint department
began to grind its pigments and get ready
to color over two million drawings.

| The paint department is feminine —
the only one in the studio. What these
girls don't know about colors, Michel-
angelo didn't know. They ground pig-
ments for over 1,500 different shades of
paint, each shade having its own number.
It was to this department that the cellu-
loids arrived after having been traced in
ink from the animators' two million draw-
ings. Two million celluloids! And accom-
panying them came also two million color
models showing every button and cuff,
wrinkle and thread of every costume in
Pinocchio, with every minute detail being
assigned a certain number which meant
such and such an off shade of blue, red
or green. What a tremendous task! Two
million color models on one hand; two
million inked celluloids that had to be
colored on the reverse side on the other
hand; and on the shelves in front fifteen
hundred shades of paint! The work of
these girls was so intricate and demanding
that they were served tea every day at
10: 30 in the morning and 3: 30 in the after-
noon, instructed to drop work and relax.

The next stop — and the final one — was
the camera department where the colored
celluloids were set up under the camera
and each frame photographed individually.
The camera clicked two million times, or
are you getting tired of that? Anyway,
Pinocchio was finished. Simple, isn't it?

■ Although you won't see them on the
screen, some of Hollywood's prize stars
are in the picture. Rather, their voices
are. While Pinocchio was still in the story
department, the studio started casting for
voices which were suitable to each char-
acter. After months of recording voices,
Walter Catlett's was found to be just right
for the Fox, J. Worthington Foulfellow;
the gentle voice of Christian Rub brings
to life the kindly character of old Gep-
petto; Evelyn Venable speaks the lines of
the Blue Fairy; Cliff Edwards is Jiminy
Cricket, Pinocchio's conscience, and little
Dickie Jones has a right now to be called
"Pinocchio."

THE RIGHT KIND OF BEGINNING, MOTHER, gives best results! So thousands of
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She was condemned by society through no
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Never was a girl so heartbreakingly handi-
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of crime and win a place for herself in society.
Look for her absorbing confession in the

January issue.

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Late afternoon is the time
for casual callers, and if you
follow Patricia Ellis' advice
you will have a table ready
with plenty of "snacks"

"Snacks"
Tor Your
Holidays

Half of the fun of Christmas time is the
party spirit. Are you ready for callers?

By BETTY CROCKER

| Hollywood is just like
any other community
during the holidays, work
is mostly forgotten, and
everywhere you go it's open
house. And, of course, you
must be prepared to dis-
p e n s e hospitality when
groups of friends drop in,

Patricia Ellis has a "snack
table" set up that offers such
delicious treats, and is such
a practical solution to the problem of what
to offer casual guests, that we are pass-
ing along her ideas to you.

For a hasty nibble, there's the little pig
centerpiece, bristling with meat appe-
tizers— such as squares of canned meat,
slices of frankfurters, or toasted sausages.
The platter is surrounded with cheese
sticks, crackers and potato chips.

But appetites being what they are in
crisp winter weather, Pat wisely has a hot
dish ready. She chooses spaghetti and
meat ball because it may be kept hot in-
definitely.

The grand climax, however, is the fruit
cake.

Patricia Ellis' fruit cake is almost one
hundred years old! The one shown on
her snack table was baked when Detroit
was just a village. Only six of the orig-
inal batch remain. Pat was given hers
amid great ceremony during a visit there
not long ago. Each year the cake jars
have been opened, brandy poured on, and
the cakes put away again.

Well, your cake may not be any older

than a few days, but it can
still be a delicious addition
to your snack table if you
follow this kitchen-tested
recipe of ours for Last
Minute Fruit Cake. Here
it is:

LAST MINUTE FRUIT
CAKE

Vz cup shortening

1 cup granulated sugar

1 egg

1 cup unsweetened apple sauce, strained
2% cups all-purpose flour
Vz tsp. nutmeg
% tsp. allspice
Vz tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. soda
Vi cup water
Vi cup almonds, cut fine
% cup walnuts, cut fine
Vz cup raisins
% cup dates, cut fine
% cup candied cherries, cut fine
% cup candied pineapple, cut fine
% cup candied lemon rind, cut fine

Cream shortening, add sugar gradually
and cream thoroughly. Blend in well
beaten egg. Add the cooled apple sauce.
Sift flour once before measuring. Sift
together flour, spices, salt and soda. Add
flour mixture alternately with the water
to the creamed mixture. Add fruit and
nuts which have been mixed with the

They wished to be alone and they didn't
want any cheers from the bleachers while
they stood before the minister. People
were busy minding their own business on
Christmas, thought Claudette. Even a
movie star might have a little privacy.
Makes a pretty idea for Christmas, too,
giving oneself away in marriage.

At 4 a. m. the happy pair set off by auto-
mobile for Yuma, just across the border
in Arizona. The knot was tied and back
they came to what they thought was an
unsuspecting Hollywood. Over the line
into California they stopped at a gasoline
station. Like swarming bees over a flower
bed the newshawks descended.

All the way home they ran the gauntlet
of reporters and cameramen. Once there,
the rest of the night — until 5 a. m. the next
morning — was spent in posing for photo-
graphs. The story of a film star's marriage,
on Christmas Day when "nothing ever
happens" to break the calm of newspaper
offices, rates a headline and just the kind
of attention poor Claudette didn't want.

■ The Christmas that Producer Samuel
Goldwyn doesn't like to remember
was the one when he had a battle with
David Niven.

He was trying to cut the handsome
young English star's salary and David,
with true British obstinacy, refused to take
a cut. Goldwyn, one of the shrewdest men
in the film business, then served notice
that he was going to force Niven to live
up to the letter of his contract. David, at
that time, was broadcasting for a food
products company. Under the contract,
half of his earnings went to Goldwyn.

In addition to the handsome weekly
check he received for his presence on the
air, David also received food samples.
These, the star carefully cut in half, and
sent Goldwyn his share with the Niven
compliments. This started before Christ-
mas and continued for a long time after
Christmas too. Weeks of receiving halves
of cheese and such things gave the pro-
ducer a healthy respect for David.

Forecasts for 1940

[Continued from page 21]

actor. Norma will find her greatest hap-
piness with an older man, who commands
importance in the business field.

LORETTA YOUNG: Will find a
romance with a man who has been
married before. If it doesn't result in
matrimony at the end of the year, it will
in 1S41. Loretta must guard her health
carefully. She will receive a surprise visit
from someone this year which will have
an important bearing on her life.

GEORGE BRENT: Must watch his
health. Great danger lurks over him.
He should avoid the water. A new and
turbulent romance with a famous actress
is in sight. He has a good year ahead.

JOAN CRAWFORD: Will not have a
tranquil year. She will be surrounded by
very upsetting circumstances in her per-
sonal and professional life. She will have
to do much fighting to hold what she has,
and she will be betrayed by a friend. She
will remain friendly with Franchot Tone,
and lean on him for advice, but there is
no reconciliation. She will meet an
artistic man — a writer, an artist or a
musician — who will influence her greatly
and teach her a new philosophy which will
make her an even greater woman.

THE LANE SISTERS: Priscilla will
fight against marriage, because she is
entering the year in which her career is
all predominant. Marriage, however, is
seen. Her career looks excellent, and she
will soar to even greater heights in 1940.
Marriage ahead for Rosemary whose in-
terest in her career will wane with
domesticity. She will concentrate on her
singing. Lola will live the most exciting
life of the three famous Lanes.

ELEANOR POWELL will find hap-
piness in a lasting love. There are
whispers around her — not so much the
whispers of scandal as of trouble-makers.
She must have faith in her friends, other-
wise she will make herself unhappy.

GINGER ROGERS: A new love will
come to her. He is a Hollywood actor.
Ginger faces a court entanglement on
money matters, but it won't disturb her.

GARBO: Faces a loss of money. The
planets smile on her otherwise. She will
enjoy better health than she has in some
time. Romance with a man outside of
the industry is seen.

Hollywood's youngsters have exciting
forecasts, also:

JUDY GARLAND: Will become quite
interested in a romance, but it will not
be serious and will not affect her career.

DEANNA DURBIN : Faces a clash with
her superiors. As for her career, she will
rise to even greater heights in 1940, firmly
establishing herself as a great actress as
well as singer. An unusual honor will
come to her in 1940.

GLORIA JEAN: A wonderful year
ahead. She will become sensationally
popular. She has a glorious, golden year
ahead. Court troubles for this youngster,
too, but it will be a legal formality-
brought about by some people who are
trying to get money from her — Gloria will
not be personally involved.

SHIRLEY TEMPLE: This looks like a
very interesting year for her career, as it
shows signs of a great change in her acting
technique. She will win a new following
and build for the future to tide her over
the "awkward age."

MICKEY ROONEY: Wonderful-
wonderful — wonderful, professionally
speaking. His star will continue to ascend
and good luck will be with him. On the
personal side, he faces a lawsuit. He must
be very careful of the friendships he
makes. Watch your step, Mickey.

The coming year carries the promise of
great success and unmarred future for
many — for others, it holds the shadow of
unhappiness. But welcome, 1940, we're
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Santa Is a Headache

[Continued from page 39]

Claudette Colbert is one who started her
shopping last August — with a notebook.
Each time she found out what someone
wanted, she wrote it down. Then she went
out and shopped. She put into the giv-
ing much of her own time and thought,
which makes her gifts worthwhile. Joan
Crawford will be doing the same thing.
Jewelry, clothing, and countless other
gifts will be selected and wrapped by Joan
herself. Hearty Clark Gable will be shop-
ping these days with Carole Lombard for
three things: Gags, personal gifts and a
large stock of liquid cheer for those with
whom he works. And Warner Baxter will
be getting ready to be host to the entire
Twentieth Century-Fox lot on a sound
stage. Plenty of Christmas cheer for all.

These bills will run into the thousands.

Carole Lombard's arms will be loaded
with gifts. Everyone on the set will first
get some silly thing, ranging from a bull-
whip for the assistant director who sum-
mons her before the camera to a dollar
alarm clock for her secretary, Fieldsie,
who gets her up in the morning to go to
work. After that will come the real gifts.

"I got the gag habit," Carole tells me,
"when I was a youngster in Fort Wayne,
Indiana. My mother used to walk into the
front room with a basket full of gags, de-
signed to be a mild rebuke and to give a
laugh to those who received them. The
real Christmas came afterwards."

Lombard will go miles for a gag. She
shopped all over Los Angeles once to find
a carriage for Clark's race horse, Beverly
Hills, and had it delivered to him Christ-
mas morning with a note:

"That horse will never win a race. You'd
better just hitch him to this."

Marion Marx received a four-dollar
mule from her — she raises race horses —
and found it on her front lawn with a sign,
"Pride of the Marwyck Stables." Com-
plete with a bale of hay.

To Mitchell Leisen, director, goes a bow
for having the greatest directorial Christ-
mas spirit. He scatters thoughtfully
bought presents amounting to thousands.
No one on the set is forgotten when
"Mitch" loots a sports shop which he
owns jointly. He wraps the packages
himself. At noon Christmas Eve he stops
filming and starts handing out tokens of
his appreciation to those who help him
at the studio.

Darryl Zanuck gets credit for being the
most generous producer. No matter what
the tax bill may be in March, he mas-
querades behind his three children, Susan,
Darrylin and Richard. They give the gifts
to hundreds upon hundreds throughout
the industry with little notes of apprecia-
tion. But the bill eventually ends on
Zanuck's desk — and he pays off with a
smile.

At Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer you may
rest assured that Jeanette MacDonald,
Nelson Eddy, Myrna Loy, Bill Powell,
Hedy Lamarr, Director Woody Van Dyke
and Bob Montgomery will give set parties.
They've never missed. There'll be drinks
and gifts and general merrymaking.

The other day, to give an example of the
far-reaching Christmas influence of
Myrna and her husband, Arthur Horn-
blow, a cop on the beat said wistfully:

"Gee, I'd sure like to meet Hornblow
and Miss Loy. For several years — ever
since they've been in Hollywood and Bev-
erly Hills — I've had a gift from them. But
I've never seen them."

Marlene Dietrich and Kay Francis fre-
quently have given automobiles to those
who have worked with them — Marlene's
gift to Dot Ponedel, hair dresser, was de-
livered on the set wrapped in cellophane
— and the exotic foreign star distributed,
one year, bottles of champagne with $20
gold pieces wrapped against them.

You can depend on it, also, that al-
though Marion Davies hasn't made a pic-
ture for some time, she'll find a place to
give a party for those five hundred crip-
pled children and their friends and rel-
atives. A real party. And, as each family
departs, there'll be a Christmas basket.
When Marion sees September come
around, she sends for a representative of
Cartier's, in New York City, to bring
jewelry to the coast and makes selections
for her friends.

Huge, ambling Gary Cooper will wan-
der around from here to there with a shy
smile on his face. Everywhere he goes,
he'll stop with someone and chat. About
sixty people will receive money orders
from the sky-high star, ranging from ten
to more than one hundred dollars. And
many families will be started on the New
Year properly with Cooper financing.

Many of the stars, including Barbara
Stanwyck, have started a considerable
amount of Christmas charity work.
Barbara tells me:

"I'd a lot rather give the money to a
hospital or to some needy groups of peo-
ple than spend it on gifts for friends who
already have a lot. I think they like it
better, too."

There is a growing tendency among the
players to get away from cards. Most
send telegrams to friends who aren't
within the charmed gift circle. Or cards
which read:

"This card should be a very nice
one. But it's plain, because my Christ-
mas appropriation for cards has been

given to the Charity."

No doubt, if you know Shirley Temple
and Charlie Ruggles, just to mention two
of a host of people, you'll receive such
cards.

Gladys George and her husband, Leon-
ard Penn, believe in Christmas charity.
The fact is that most of the players who
have come up the hard way set aside a
good, large appropriation for this sort of
thing. The George-Penn charity last year
consisted of throwing wide the doors of
an exclusive Hollywood restaurant and
inviting anyone connected with pictures
who had no place to go to celebrate the
Yuletide to be their guests.

Bette Davis is planning to get flowers
for most of her friends. In addition she
takes time and care to work with a char-

ity-minded woman who furnishes her
with the exact needs of many people,
mostly young girls looking for work with
no suitable garments to make themselves
presentable. Bette buys these clothes,
sees that they are delivered.

If you have worked with Tyrone Power
during the year, you are pretty sure to
receive some kind of knitted goods —
sweaters, socks, and such things. Jane
Withers passes out leather goods to her
friends at Twentieth Century-Fox. Alice
Faye goes in for watches, fountain pens,
and jewelry. Sonja Henie sent 500 under-
privileged children to see Hansel and
Gretel on the stage in Los Angeles last
year, and undoubtedly is planning a sim-
ilar outing this year, now that she's re-
turned from Europe.

Joe E. Brown is lavish with his gifts.
Among those who receive evidences of
the Brown generosity are members of his
baseball team. Gracie Allen, who is very
funny on screen and radio, turns into a
very kindly, unfunny person on Christ-
mas morning. She has a stock of baskets
filled with food, necessities and toys, and
makes the rounds to deliver them to se-
lected families — chosen because of their
needs. Jack Benny, also a humorist, al-
ready has booked several personal ap-
pearances which will bring in money for
Christmas charity purposes. No worthy
appearance can be too far away for Jack,
who insists on paying all his own expenses
as well as giving his time.

But, we've said that Santa is a headache.

And he is. He comes not only at the

wrong time, but he calls for personal sac-
rifices from everyone in the upper
brackets in Hollywood. The stars don't
complain, but they find themselves very
much depressed by the guy.

Take George Raft. George is a gen-
erous guy. He can't keep his hands out
of his pockets when somebody asks for
something, Christmas or any other time.
Christmas came along and he really out-
did himself. He got a huge tree, scouted
around, found out what everybody at his
studio wanted, brought great armsful of
gifts, wrapped them, put them under the
tree and sent out word.

Property men, grips, stenographers,
mill workers and laborers mobbed the
tree as George stood back. Finally, all
went away. The tree looked as if a hur-
ricane had struck it. Tissue paper, boxes,
broken ornaments and tinsel littered the
floor.

George looked at the tree, contemplated
it sadly.

He advanced slowly to it, eyed a lone
package.

"For George," it said.

Gleefully, gratefully, he opened it. It
contained one pair of socks from his
bodyguard, Mack Gray. Of the hundreds,
not one had thought that maybe Georgo
might have been made just a little bit
happy by some small thing from them.
Not something that cost a great deal of
money. Just something that would have let
him know that he had been thought of—

Multiply George by a hundred stars and
you know why Santa can be a headache.

Deanna Durbin does a little bar work dangerously close to the swimming pool.
Her latest picture, First Love, gives her a real romance, with a kiss at the end

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Her Heart Belongs to Hollywood

[Continued from page 27]

Would she? And did she?

She sang for Mr. Porter. He grinned.

She sang for the Spewacks, who wrote
the show. They admired her.

She sang for the producer, Vinton
Freedley. He hired her.

She sang that memorable opening night,
November 9, sang her sauciest in that spot
where the script called for her to peel off
her clothes at a Siberian railway station
and to sing, while the natives ogled at her,
"My Heart Belongs to Daddy."

Long after midnight after that unfor-
gettable opening, Mary Martin pushed
open the door of her apartment. It was
choked with flowers from admirers. A
bellboy called around with a stack of
telegrams. One of the first she opened
was a wire from Paramount offering her
a contract at a fancy salary. The first studio
to turn her down earlier was the first to
acknowledge its mistake and call her back.

She forgave all, because her heart al-
ways has belonged to Hollywood.

Yon*«l Hate Being a Star

[Continued from page 13]

hear one of them say: "Aw, nuts! I only
get a dime for her signature. Let's find a
bigger star!" Wouldn't that upset your ego
just a little?

How would you feel if you found the
autograph book you were signing was a
blank check-book? That happened to
Bing Crosby. What would you do if your
loving fans tore your newest and prettiest
hat to ribbons, scratched your face, ripped
buttons off your best suit, grabbed your
handbag and distributed its contents to
all and sundry? Wouldn't you get mad?
If you don't like to be "pushed around"
then don't be a star.

Are You Sensitive to Gossip?

| Suppose you had a headache that re-
curred— and suppose you had a doc-
tor who prescribed a pill every day at
three o'clock to help cure it. Suppose you
didn't want the studio to know you were
feeling ill so you furtively slipped the
pill down with a glass of water on the set.
And suppose a story came out saying you
took dope. You'd sue, and probably win
— but the fans would never forget and
they'd never forgive you. That is an ex-
ample of how every action is watched.

Do You Mind Personal Questions?

gj How many times a day do you sup-
pose a big star has to give interviews on
a set? The studio tries to protect her, but
it's good business to have stories. The
sob-sisters interview you in your dress-
ing room — they catch you between scenes
when you're trying to memorize your
lines, they buttonhole you at openings and
bombard you with questions about your
love-life, your personal habits and your
views on vital questions. If you don't talk,
you're considered high-hat. If you ex-
press too candid an opinion, the studio
rakes you over the coals.

| If you give money to charity openly,
you're the prey of every beggar in the
land. If you give somebody a break in
pictures, it might turn out she gets the
part you want and leaves you holding a
broken contract.

You have to keep every friend and win
every enemy. You must never forget a
face or fail to repay a favor. When you

are tired of having your poor face painted
up six days a week, and steal out to Holly-
wood Boulevard for a few minutes of
peaceful shopping with your face clean
and breathing once more, you'll hear whis-
pers: "Oh, is that Gilda Glamour? Doesn't
she look terrible off the screen?"

Hi Did you ever try watching a polo game
with fifty people shoving at you for
autographs? Once Joan Bennett tried for
an hour to see a game at the Uplifter's.
She never saw a single play. She didn't
have time to note which chukker was
which. She signed autographs bravely
until she burst into tears from nervous-
ness and strain and had to leave the field.
How do you react when a camera is
shoved into your face and a flash-bulb
goes "pop" and blinds you? Then how do
you feel when the picture conies out in a
magazine with your mouth open and a
silly grin on your face? Candid camera
pictures are enough to make an ordinary
person's hair turn white. Remember that
one your little brother got of you in that
silly bathing cap when you weren't look-
ing? Then think how you feel when
you've arrived? you're a beautiful star —
and you never know when a camera is
going to catch you with a mouth full of
sandwich — or arguing — or half-asleep — or

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frowning because you're so tired you
could drop. I could go on and on. But do
you still think I'm talking through my
hat? Did you give honest answers to all of
the questions? Remember, you can't be
yourself. You can't choose your friends.
You can't get up at ten when you feel
tired. You can't go to bed at two in the
morning. You can't talk back. You can't
be cross or fretful or moody.

Think it over. You may not make a
fortune, as I do, but you have time to
enjoy what you do make. Your friends
like you for yourself, not for what you
may do for them. Gossip does not threaten
your marriage from the start. You do not
have to fear the ending of your career the
minute the first lines appear in your face.
Believe me, you'd hate to be a star!

Baby Takes a Bow

[Continued from page 29]

Then, in fun, he growled at Duke. The
dog automatically growled back. It re-
corded fine in the sound track and they
let it remain; cutting out the next few
feet when Duke in a frenzy of repentance
nearly drowned Bill with kisses.

("They played tricks, too," Cuddles re-
lated with a yawn; liit kept the grown-ups
amused, I suppose.")

H They played tricks, indeed. Such as
giving that trick-player, Nat Pendle-
ton, a loaded cigar and placing near him
a prop man with an empty revolver. When
the cigar went off, Pendleton thought the
gun had exploded and shot the cigar from
his mouth. The same day, Van Dyke
(who is W. S. Van Dyke, II., while his
small son is W. S. Van Dyke, III.) asked
Powell to choose a baby to appear at the
party called for by the script. "It must
be kind of a sophisticated baby," the
Director said.

Powell looked over the aggregation of
infants. "How about that one?" he asked
undecidedly. "Oh that one?" Van Dyke
suggested, pointing to the back row.
Powell looked and nearly dropped in his
tracks. There sat a baby, in white coat
and little white bonnet, smoking a pipe!
Van Dyke had slipped a midget in among
the tots. "Oh," Powell said, "W. S. Van
Dyke, IV!"

■ There's a strange thing about the
character of The Thin Man. In the
first story, the original "Thin Man" was
the victim, both in the book and in the
picture. But by an odd, mass-misconcep-
tion, the title was transferred by the public
to Nick Charles, the sleuth so suavely
played by Powell. Nowadays, the de-
tective remains "The Thin Man" even
though he isn't thin.

The victim in this third film about the
doings of Nick Charles, is C. Aubrey Smith.
He was pleased when he learned that he
had been chosen to play a Wall street
millionaire who got killed. In his long
career on stage and screen he had, Mr.
Smith pointed out, played everything
except a corpse, and he felt that this char-
acter rounded out his experience. As for
Otto Kruger, who plays the district
attorney, he's been a district attorney so
often that the role is second nature, but
he said Mr. Smith was about the most
distinguished "case" with which he'd had
to deal. "Everybody's satisfied," Mr.
Smith said jovially, awaiting the fatal
bullet.

("I had a good deal to do with it," ex-

plained Cuddles with a complacent air;
"if it hadn't been for me, Dad — the Thin
Man, you know — would never have heard
that revolver shot.")

The baby, in fact, had wakened his
parents at midnight. Myrna quieted him
and then put him in Powell's bed. But
he didn't stay put.

("I craved amusement, intelligent con-
versation," Cuddles said, "so — glub, glub —
I hi'sted myself up and crawled over Dad's
face. It always wakes 'em." He crowed
gleefully, then instantly grew solemn,
staring about his dressing room with those
bright, twinkling eyes.)

What was he thinking about, anyway?

("I'm thinking about my future,"
Cuddles replied, wrinkling his tiny nose
in sign language parlance. "I'm going to
be a detective, too. Already when they
don't watch me I crawl around the floor
looking for clues.")

Olivia de Havilland is preparing
for her next picture, The Sea Hawk,
with hours of sun on the tennis court

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Name-
City _

- Age _

Art for Artie's Sake

[Continued jrora page 30]

Cocoanut Grove. Playing hot clarinet, he
moved back east with his band. To
Chicago and to New York. CBS came
after him to play in house bands, and at
twenty he was blowing his horn to the
tune of five hundred a week.

"Then," he tells you, "I began to im-
prove my education."

This involved upsetting standards at
New York universities, where Artie de-
manded the right to try entrance exami-
nations to advanced courses without
formal preparation. He began to read
everything he could get his hands on.
He plowed through some pretty heavy
stuff, including Plato, Lafcadio Hearn and
a writer called Benjamin Tucker he's still
wild about. "Tucker," he tells you, "said
something about light in a book of his. I
wanted to find out what light really was.
So I went to the Encyclopaedia Brittanica.
There were three whole pages and I
couldn't understand a word, and my job
seemed pretty silly alongside that of a
fellow who could write three whole pages
on a subject like LIGHT. So that night
I quit my job."

Artie talks in bursts. Far more rapidly
than his big Cadillac — which does much
more than a mile a minute — hurries him
from date to date. And he goes on to
say that he not only quit his job. He left
town that same night. Went down to
Pennsylvania with his wife, where he
rented a house away back in Bucks
County, and set to work to write a book on
Bix Beiderbecke.

He had known this Beethoven of Swing
like a brother. The two of them had
roomed together out in Chicago. Jammed
together until many a dawn at late spots
around the windy city. Gone out and got
blotto together. No one was more familiar
with Bix or his premature and tragic end
than Artie. But for some reason, and
despite the fact he'd prepared himself
over a period of three years by doing a

Yes, any minute now you'll be seeing
Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh in Gone
With the Wind. It really is finished

daily stint of five thousand words, that
book didn't jell.

"But I learned a lot," he says. "In
many ways that was the happiest year of
my life. Because I was doing something
I really wanted to do."

If Artie then came back the hard way.
He grabbed a job as a laborer with a
road gang because he wanted to know
what it felt like to swing a pick and sweat
and really knock himself out doing hard
manual work. While doing so, he heard
about a contest being staged in New York.
After the best bands in the country had
done their stuff at the Imperial Theatre
that night back in 1936, he walked on
with a string quartet which played classi-
cal music against his hot clarinet.

The stunt stole the show. Everybody
in the music business offered to help if
he'd start a band. But Artie wasn't satis-
fied, despite a good spot at Hotel Lexing-
ton. He took that lop-sided outfit on the
road, and, during two of the toughest
years any leader has ever known pulled
it apart and put it together again a
hundred times, to invade New York a
little over a year ago with a band capable
of taking over where Goodman left off.

| "It isn't true," Artie says, when you
recall the story of how one dance
hall manager advanced a couple of
hundred to get him on to the next date,
and he returned, after making good, to
play for half the rate he was then getting,
"about Toronto. But it's true of two or
three other places."

Likewise, Artie would have you know,
that it isn't true he has a swelled head.
Or means to be rude when he goes through
a posse of autograph hunters like Army
goes through Yale. "I'm just a human
being," he points out. "And playing five
shows a day here at the Strand, a radio
spot every week, a regular club date at
Hotel Pennsylvania beginning October
fifteenth, in addition to movies and charity
shows and my booker alone knows what
else — it's just too much for any human
to do and not show the wear and tear."

| It was this wear and tear which drove
him into that Pennsylvania retreat
three years ago. And last June, after he
had swept across country like a musical
tornado, this wear and tear again drove
him to cover between the sheets at a Los
Angeles sanitarium called The Good
Samaritan.

"Medically," he tells yoUj "I was con-
sidered dead."

So there are three sides, you see, to
Artie Shaw. There is the fabulous figure
who flits from one crowded theatre or
dance palace to the next, making the hops
by train, fast motor car or plane, to give
millions the charming benefit of his madly
inspired clarinet. And there is the man
of finance, who makes his booker wealthy
earning $12,500 a week at the Strand, the
same amount at the Pennsylvania, $10,000
for a weekly radio shot and $2,000 for

every single record he makes. Then there
is the prostrate, extremely pathetic boy
who lay in that room at The Good Samar-
itan, pondering the price he must pay
eventually for a certain something known
as fame, and somehow managed to fool
the doctors by getting around again.

"For the first time in three years," he
tells you, "I had a chance to think. And
this time it's going to be different. . . ."

H Then he tells you, in another rapid-
firing burst, that he figures he'll only
live thirty years more. So he's going to do
what he wants to do from now on. "First,"
he says, "I'm going to make money. Not a
little but a lot. They tell me I'll have a
quarter million inside of a year at the rate
I'm going. That's quite enough to see a
little of the world. Not from the back end
of a train or the wheel of a car. I'd like to
get a boat, like the fellow in that book,
and take my own time. Do something in
music that will really live and not flash up
suddenly and then fade out, like a shoot-
ing star . . . What's that?" he snaps at an
usher who doesn't dare shove more than
his nose through the crack of this par-
ticular star's dressing room. "We're on in
five minutes? All right! I'll be there. Give
me time, can't you . . ."

And next minute he is gone. Hurrying
down the iron stairs to meet another dead-
line. Leaving you with a book in your
hands titled Vagabond Voyaging, still open
at page seven. And you can't help hoping
that one day soon Artie will not only get
a chance to finish the book but will ac-
tually shove off on such a trip. Dream
down through sun-washed islands to some
tropic heaven specially created for hard-
working young band leaders, with a wife
who loves him because he is a swell guy
and not a big name, and with a couple of
kids to help shorten sail . . .

"But the chances are," you say to your-
self as the haunting refrain of Begin the
Beguine with Artie on the clarinet follows
you out the stage door on to 47th Street,
"he never will."

George Raft, snapped on his return
from Europe. His next picture is
House Across the Bay with Joan Bennett

■>>.•.■ .■ H^

-tobacco's better than ever!

and Luckies always take the
N better grades!" says Ray Oglesby,
tobacco auctioneer
for 8 years.

BENJAMIN HAWKS of North

Carolina shows Auctioneer
Oglesby his fine tobacco seed-
lings—grown by new U. S.
Government methods.

RAY OGLESBY in action.
Among independent tobacco
experts like this famous auc-
tioneer, Luckies are the 2-to-l
favorite over all other brands.

■H

Q. WHY HAVE TOBACCO CROPS BEEN BETTER?

A. Because, even though crops vary with
weather conditions, Uncle Sam's new methods
of improving soil, seed and plant-food have
done a fine job for the farmers.
Q. Do Luckies buy this better tobacco?

A. Yes, indeed — independent experts like
Ray Oglesby tell you that Luckies always
have bought the choicer grades of each crop.
In fact, that's why Mr. Oglesby has smoked
Luckies for 1 1 years.

Q. Do other tobacco experts prefer Luckies,too?
A. Among these skilled auctioneers, buyers
and warehousemen, it's Luckies 2 to 1.
Try Luckies for one week. You'll find that the
"Toasting" process makes them easy on your
throat, for "Toasting" takes out certain harsh
irritants found in all tobacco. You'll also know
why . . WITH MEN WHO KNOW TO-
BACCO BEST-IT'S LUCKIES 2 TO 1

£By f-i 41

t^S Vwil

WS1

Have you
tried a

^^l LUCKY

■ ■

■P

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•™mr *■

Nineteen- forty brings

DAVID O. SELZNICK'S production ./MARGARET MITCHELL'S

Story of the Old South

GONE WITH THE WIND

in TECHNICOLOR starring

CLARK GABLE

as Rhett Butler

LESLIE HOWARD 'OLIVIA De HAVILLAND

and presenting

VIVIEN LEIGH

as Scarlett O'Hara

A SELZNICK. INTERNATIONAL PICTURE

Directed by VICTOR FLEMING

Screen Tlay by SIDNEY HOWARD • Music by Max Steiner

A Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Release

X IPLil

©C1B 4 40 64 0

FEBRUARY, 1940
Vol. 29 No. 2

Hollywood

cornoraiina SCREEN Lll

W. H. FAWCETT
Publisher

Incorporating

SCREEN LIFE

(Ree. U. S. Pat. Off.)

LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor

Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Is Vivien Leigh a Real Life Scarlett O'Hara? by Paul Larnard 19

Girl Without a Country? (Sonja Henie) by Wilbur Morse, Jr. 2 1

The Grapes of Wrath by E. J. Smithson 22

Typhoon by Duncan Underhill 24

How To Be a Villain (David Niven) by Kay Proctor 26

Zoo in Hollywood ( Sigrld Gurie) by Winifred Aydelotte 28

Battling Star (George Raft) by Ian Duncan 30

Take a Personality Test With Ginger Rogers by Helen Hover 32

"Rest Cure" for Bette by Radie Harris 34

Abe Lincoln in Hollywood by Jessie Henderson 36

Play Ball! (Clark Gable) 66

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

The Show Goes On by the Editor 6

Hollywood Newsreel by Elmer Sunfield 8

Here's How! by Ann Vernon 12

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 14

Movie Crossword 1 6

The Ameches' Spaghetti by Betty Crocker 52

"GONE WITH THE WIND" CONTEST NEWS! 40

Edward Arnold puts finishing
touches to the court costume
of Silky, gangster played by
Robert Montgomery, who finds
himself the heir to a title in
M-G-M's The Earl of Chicago

RALPH DAIGH, Managing Editor

GORDON FAWCETT, Hollywood Manager

CHARLES RHODES, Staff Photographer

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc., 1100 West Broadway, Louisville, Ky. Printed in U. S. A. Entered as second class matter at the post
office at Louisville. Ky., under the act of March 3, 1879, with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 1940 by Fawcett Publications, Inc. W. H. Fawcett. Publisher; Elliott
Odell, Advertising Director. General offices, Fawcett Building, Greenwich. Conn. Trademark registered in U. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and
possessions; $1.00 in Canada; foreign subscription $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich,
Conn. Single issues five cents. Advertising forms close on the 18th of third month preceding date of issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence
concerning subscriptions to Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Advertising offices: New York: 1501 Broadway; Chicago, SHI) N. Michigan Ave.: San Francisco. Simpson-Keilly, 1014
Hiiss Building; Los Angeles, Simpson-Reilly, Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices, 1501 Broadway, New York City; Hollywood office, 8555 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, California.

■

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liZI*i:MYJLeM«M:i

By THE EDITOR

H I wonder if anyone ever has enjoyed
new stardom more than does Jane
Bryan. I wonder if anyone ever took
sudden fame more simply. She traveled
to New York for the opening of her new
picture, We Are Not Alone, at the beauti-
ful Radio City Music Hall, and turned
those wide-set eyes, those shining freckles,
with delight at such things as the Aquar-
ium, the Metropolitan Museum, the
Empire State Building. She was en-
chanted with the subways that roar and
scream for hundreds of miles beneath
the crowded streets, and she was defi-
nitely relieved to find some of the elevated
railways still up. She had been fearful,
she explained, that they would all be
torn down before she ever had a chance
to ride on one. It would be difficult to
find a pretty young girl who looks less
like a movie star than Miss Bryan. She
has all of the hearty bloom of a college
sophomore, wears no make-up except a
g-ay red lipstick, likes plain dresses and
little jewelry. Her enjoyment of her
stardom comes, not from the things that
she can buy with the money that she
makes, but from the parts that she will
be able to play from now on. She has
worked hard for a chance in Hollywood
and, because she gets pleasure out of her
career, rather than by means of it, she
is one to watch.

B Osa Johnson is another charming
person who is so busy with a career
that she has no time to waste on a pose.
Tiny, dainty, prettier than most stars, she
is quite the last person you would expect
to follow a life of vivid adventure in the
African wilds. And it is just impossible
to believe that many the time she has
coolly held her ground in front of a
charging rhino, waiting until just the right
moment to fire a heavy-duty bullet into
its furious bulk. Since the shocking death
of her husband, Martin Johnson, in an
airplane accident, she has continued the
life of an explorer alone, and soon will
have another picture ready for release.
It is called I Married Adventure and will
show much more of the fascinating life
she led in Africa than did the earlier
Johnson travel pictures. Wilbur Morse,
Jr., who is just back from a trip to
Europe for interviews with stars, went
over to The Museum of Natural History
when she was making some scenes in
front of specimens which she procured,
and now he is muttering about elephant
guns and kraals and life on the veldt.
You will find his fascinating report on
Mrs. Johnson in next month's Hollywood
Magazine, but where you will find Mr.
Morse, we are not sure. He sounded
pretty determined about going on safari,
even if he did seem to think it was some-
thing between a camel and a greyhound
bus.

9 Jessie Henderson travelled one million

years and a little more back through

time for a story on the prehistoric animals

that are the most sensational actors in
1,000,000 B. C. If she brings herself back
alive, and there is every reason to believe
that she will, there will be a full account
of her adventures in an early issue.

B Kay Proctor has discovered that life
can be just as hazardous in Holly-
wood as in distant corners of the earth
or in by-gone times. When she journeyed
out to Basil Rathbone's home for a nice
quiet interview, she had a surprise. The
house was overflowing with painters en-
gaged in one of those early spring house-
cleanings, and no sooner did Miss Proctor
start to bring up the subject of Mr. Rath-
bone's villainous part in The Tower of
London than they had to move. After
this had happened several times, Miss
Proctor found herself carrying a mop and
two paint brushes and Mr. Rathbone had
a ladder. They had completely forgotten
about a discussion of Mr. Rathbone's
career, and he was expressing pretty
hearty opinions about the theory of spring-
cleaning. That led to the practice of
spring-cleaning. Fortunately, Cameraman
Charles Rhodes was at hand to get pic-
tures of the dashing star demonstrating
by some heavy labor that spring-cleaning
need not be hard work if you just organ-
ize your efforts. After Miss Proctor had
spent two days in bed, resting, she wrote
one of the funniest stories of her career,
and you'll find it in next month's Holly-
wood Magazine.

Behind those bandages lurks Vincent
Price, taking very seriously his part in
The Invisible Man Returns. Nan Grey
seems worried, and understandable, too

BAD GIRL

<?00D GUY— GREAT PICTURE!!!

■REMEMBER THE

NIGHT'

(&4W

0Upsetaguy."

REMEMT

Moffat*'

"That's no way for as

CcJdh^if

Barbara Stanwyck • Fred MacMurray

REMEMBER THE NIGHT

Slick as "Honeymoon in Bali". . . S xplosive as "Midnight", . . Romantic as "Love Affair''

with BEULAH BONDI
Elizabeth Patterson • Sterling Holloway • Directed by Mitchell leisen

Original Screen Play by Preston Sturges

Of Course,

„, TpAWMOONT p.ctu«»

F'^fTMT i ^mVWimtiim

sat a-.

i:wnTAvi»w»i:i4v«rt^^

By ELMER SUNFIELD

£ Hollywood would be a much happier
place if some of our movie mamas and
papas would follow the example of the
parents of Linda Darnell, the 20th Cen-
tury-Foxer who hit star rating in her
second picture, Daytime Wife.

Figuring she was doing pretty well,
thank you, in a financial way, Linda de-
cided to buy a house for her mother,
young brother and young sister who have
come to Hollywood from Dallas, Texas, to
live with her.

But the family insisted firmly on paying
its part. The house deal was canceled and
Linda and her people now live in a home
rented by her father, Calvin Roy Darnell,
Dallas postal clerk, who sees to it that all
but a very small percentage of his daugh-
ter's movie salary goes into a saving ac-
count in her name. Wise people, these
Darnells from Texas.

B Miriam Hopkins is still a southerner
at heart. Born in Bainbridge, Georgia,
and reared in Savannah, she remembers
very well the stories her family told her
of Sherman's sacking of those towns dur-
ing his march to the sea.

That is why Mariam refused to sin;
"Marching Through Georgia" in Warne;
Brothers' Virginia City. Instead she chosi
"Yankee Doodle."

"I wouldn't sing a song based on Geor-
gia's suffering," Miss Hopkins said em
phatically. " 'Yankee Doodle' is somethin
else. It was a patriotic American song Ion
before the Civil War — and still is."

| Ronald Reagan will have the mosi
unique movie fan club in the world i
plans of Maude Ledrine of Chicago, ma-;

terialize. The club will be composed of
people whose lives Reagan saved when he
was a lifeguard.

"You may not remember me," wrote
the girl to the Warner Brothers' star, "but
you pulled me out of Rock River at Lowell
Beach Park about ten years ago. I owe my
life to you. I understand I am not the only
one similarly indebted to you, and I am
trying to get in touch with as many of the
others as I can, and organize them into a
club."

Reagan was officially credited with sav-
ing 77 lives during his seven seasons as a
lifeguard.

| One of the funniest off-stage anec-
dotes springing from the filming
of The Fighting 69th concerns Pat
O'Brien's mother. Seems son Patrick,
brought her on location and got her a
"front-line" seat close to Director Bill
Keighley. Bill gave the command to "roll

section of Beverly Hills, keeps fit by don-
ning his running shorts in the evening
and going for an hour's trot around sev-
eral streets. One night not long ago, while
attired in this abbreviated athletic garb,
he was hailed in anguished tones by a
colored woman's voice, and on slowing
down he discovered it was his dusky
laundress, who gasped out: "Ah'm sho'ly
sorry, Mistah George, Ah'm late dis week,
but ef'n you'll go right back home now,
Ah'll promise to bring yo' washin' de fust
thing in de mawnin'!"

■ Three little girls grow up. No, this
isn't a picture title. It's just a line to
remind you that Judy Garland, Jane
Withers and Bonita Granville are young
ladies, now, and want to be treated as
such. The three of them are grand people,
mighty fine actresses in their own right
and Hollywood is going to find it difficult
to replace them.

Bonita, by the way, has a swell part in
At Good Old Siwash. While in make-up
as a fifty-year-old, she met Fred Mac-
Murray on the Paramount lot. Bonita
poke to him, but Fred failed to recognize
■er. "Why, you know me," Bonita said.
T worked with you in a picture a couple
years ago."

"What as — my mother?" Fred asked,
uggling to place the little old lady. The
o worked together in Maid of Salem.

Frank McHugh now owns one of the

most important documents in history

-an authentic copy of Marshal Foch's

rder ending the World War.

It was sold to Frank by Frank Pratt, bit

player at Warner Bros. Pratt's uncle, the

Helen Gilbert and Robert Young take an
awed look at armor worn in 1512 by
King Sigismund I of Poland. It is to
be seen in their new picture, Florian

i&fiie

'em" and in no time machine guns began
to blast away, rifles began to crack and
dynamite charges to explode. The noise
was terrific, but of course the cartridges
were blanks and the dynamite charges
were tiny. Finally, unable to stand it
longer, Mrs. O'Brien climbed down from
her seat, walked up to the director and
laid down the law. "If anything happens
to Pat," she told him with a motherly glint
of concern in her eyes, "I'll hold you per-
sonally responsible!"

B According to box-office records, the
biggest money-makers for the 1938-39
season are Alice Faye and Spencer Tracy.
Nearest competitors were Jean Arthur
and Tyrone Power. Top pictures of the
year were Alexander's Ragtime Band,
Jesse James, Boys Town, and You Can't
Take it With You.

| Maybe you can call this one "Caught

Short." Anyway, a certain movie star

bachelor who lives by himself in a quiet

Appropriately enough, the next film for
Victor McLaglen is titled The Big Guy.
Jackie Cooper and Peggy Moran are
featured with Hollywood's biggest star

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PRISCILLA LANE

ROSEMARY LANE

LOLA LANE

GALE PAGE

The Four Daughters are now the

FOUR
WIVES

(it's a Four Belle Picture)

CLAUDE RAINS

Jeffrey Lynn • Eddie Albert

MAY ROBSON • FRANK McHUGH
DICK FORAN • HENRY O'NEILL

Screen Play by Julius J. and Pbilip G. Epstein and Maurice
Hanline * Suggested by the Book, "Sister Act," by Fannie Hurst
Music by Max Steiner»A Warner Bros.- First National Picture

Directed by

MICHAEL CURTIZ

Trie Character ot
'Mickey Borden'

as He Appeared in
'Four Daughters,'

is Portrayed by

JOHN

GARFIELD

V/,

"«*«/ OV

4««/ A/ •

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City State

late Frederick E. Pratt, was field clerk
with the 6th Army Corps, and left the
valuable paper to his nephew. The order,
on a half sheet of thin paper, reads:

Received at 7:20 o'clock, Nov. 11, 1918,
by VI Army Corps. No. 997. Radio picked
up from Eiffel Tower. Hostilities will cease
upon the whole front the 11th Nov. at 11
(French) o'clock. The Allied troups will
not cross until a further order the line
reached on that date and that hour.

(Signed) Marshal Foch.

■ It cost Eddie Albert about $15 to see
his own picture, On Your Toes.

On the way to the studio, Albert stopped
in front of Warner Bros, theatre to buy
two tickets for the evening performance.
Being the sort of chap he is, he never con-
sidered calling up the theatre for passes,
and he didn't want to stand in line. The
theatre manager assured him he didn't
need to buy tickets. "Come down any
time," he urged, "and we'll pass you right
in. But you'd better hurry back to your
car or you'll get another kind of ticket."

But Eddie was too late. He had been
tagged for both double-parking in a re-
stricted zone and leaving his car with the
motor running.

9 Ronald Reagan and Jane Wyman got
themselves engaged during the shoot-
ing of Brother Rat and a Baby and had
quite an enjoyable time for themselves
when Director Ray Enright shot romantic
sequences.

"That was pretty good," announced the
director after okaying one, "but Jane stole
the scene, Ronnie."

"That's okay," declared Reagan. "By the
time the picture's released it'll all be in
the family anyway."

■ David Niven has gone to war, but an-
ecdotes about him linger on. One night
the irrepressible David and Broderick
Crawford decided at the last moment to
go to a preview. They had no tickets, so
they phoned Loretta Young. She called
the studio for a pair of ducats, and handed
them over to the boys. The word had gone
out in the meantime that Loretta was at-
tending the picture and the fans waiting
became more and more restless as time
passed by. Finally Loretta's car (bor-
rowed along with the tickets) rolled up to
the curb. David and Broderick carefully
explained to the breathless throngs that
Miss Young had been stricken with
ptomaine after reading a too highly sea-
soned review of her last picture!

B The "grip" was working on a picture
that hadn't been going so well. Some-
one called for another "baby junior" and
the grip in his hurry bumped into an
object in a beret and a polo coat large
enough to cover both horse and rider. In
the rush of the moment the grip called to
a fellow workman: "Funny what things
you see when you haven't got a gun."

The grip isn't working any more.

The brains beating beneath the beret
belonged to Josef Von Sternberg.

| Director Michael Curtiz has the one

and only "type" bank in existence.

The bank is in Mike's head. He never

forgets a face and, like many others, he

never remembers a name. Each bit or

featured player who applies to Mika for

a job in one of his pictures is immediately

catalogued in the director's mind as to

type. When the time comes that he has

need of such a type he calls the Warner

casting office and says something like this:

[Continued on page 47]

Fazvcett photo by Charles Rhodes
With admirable wifely interest in his career, Irene Hervey Jones turns Allan to the
cameras during the dinner in honor of his new musical, The Great Victor Herbert

VE lather facial for

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Here's How!

Advice from Penny
Singleton, next to
be seen in Blondie
Brings Up Baby*
and make-up ex-
pert, William
Knight, on the use
of make-up

B v A IV X VKRJfO N

H Have you often wished that you could
be made-up by a movie expert?
Well, here's how it's done, with Penny
("Blondie") Singleton as the lucky guinea
pig and William Knight, head of Columbia
Studio's Make-up Department, doing the
make-up.

If you study the four photographs care-
fully and pay strict attention to my ex-
planation of each, then get out your own
cosmetics and practice these methods,
you'll find that your make-up will look
as smooth as Penny's or any other movie
star's. The important thing to remember
is that practice makes perfect!

I have a feeling that most girls think
they have nothing to learn about applying
lipstick. But how wrong they are! If the
Hollywood experts dared to smear color
on a star's lips without first studying the
lip contour carefully, and then tracing on
the color with firm precision — they'd soon
be looking for jobs! They found out early
in the game that a star's mouth could be
beautified enormously by the skillful ap-
plication of lip rouge — by building up the

upper lip, softening the curves cf the
lower lip. So they set about doing it with
camel's hair brushes. They found it easier
to do their delicate tracing with brushes
than with the lipstick itself. I've seen
girls who are so clever at wielding a fat
lipstick that they do a very neat job of
coloring their lips — but I've yet to see lip
make-up that couldn't be improved by the
use of a brush. You simply have to try
one to get my full meaning, and once you
use a brush, at least to outline your lips,
you'll be a lifetime convert! In the large
picture, Penny is filling in with her lip-
stick, after the clear, perfect outline was
traced with a lip brush. Some people
prefer to fill in first, outline later. Either
method is effective.

There are several fine lip brushes on the
market that you can use with your lip-
stick. The newest and snazziest trick I've
seen is a fountain lip brush. A stream-
lined container that looks like a slender
lipstick holds creamy color that feeds into
a brush tip. All you do is turn the button
at the end of the stick (as simple as re-

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If your figure doesn't suit you, send for the new booklet telling how to improve it with the
right foundation. Solve your hip, bust and waistline troubles this easy way! Miss Vernon
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mentioned here. Just send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to Ann Vernon, HOLLYWOOD
Magazine, 1501 Broadway, New York City, New York.

Never rub the powder in. Pat it on the
skin lightly is William Knight's advice

plenishing the lead in an automatic
pencil) to get more color for your
painting. The cream color comes in
seven lasting shades: Light, Medium,
Dark, Brilliant, Red Red, Evening and
Deepurple. There's an Ebonite fountain
lip brush for $1. Refills are 35 cents. I'd
love to send you the name.

H In the second picture you see Mr.
Knight supervising Penny's applica-
tion of mascara, a cosmetic Hollywood
stars would never think of omitting. The
reason they can make it look so natural
is that they learn to apply it skillfully —
and so can you. Don't load your brush
with paste, because that's when you run
the risk of getting so much on your lashes
that they look beaded and tend to run or
smear. Always raise your chin high, then
brush upward on your upper lashes. Coat
each lash completely, pushing up to pro-
duce a curl, and then go over the lashes
[Continued on page 63]

Use brush to remove excess powder foi>
smooth make-up like Penny Singleton's

Don't label yourself
all winter long-

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NO MATTER how cold it is outdoors,
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So don't label yourself . . . don't rely
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Mum prevents future odor.

More women use Mum than any other
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SO SAFE! Mum holds the American In-
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too!) Get Mum at your druggist's today.

Important to You —

Thousands of women use
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because they know that it's
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IISId>ltlii!ii:ifldMiliJrU4

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

WE ARE NOT ALONE— Warners

B Gentle, kindly, innocent people al-
ways are at a disadvantage when they
find themselves under suspicion from
society. Their very goodness, integrity,
sweetness assume the face of guilt. Their
simplicity prevents them from making an
attempt at defense where, to them, none
is necessary. And, in time of war, these
innocent people are lost indeed.

This thoughtful film deals with the fate
that overtook one small-town doctor, one
quiet young girl, who asked only to live
kindly lives in a good world.

He was absent-minded. He forgot his
wife's parties, but he never forgot his
patients, and he frequently remembered
to forget to send bills to the poor ones.
He forgot to light the lamp on his bicycle,
but he never forgot to leave a night-light
burning for his little boy who was afraid
of the dark.

When he was called to treat an Austrian
dancer who had hurt her arm, he saw
deeper than the broken bone, saw her
need for companionship and encourage-
ment, took his little son to spend after-
noons with her on the shore. It was his
own wife who suggested that Fraulein
enter their household as governess for
the boy. And it was that righteous, re-
spectable woman who turned her out
when she discovered that Fraulein had
been a dancer, had attempted suicide.
From that time-on to the shocking, pathe-
tic climax, the unsuspicious doctor and
the defenseless girl would have been
helpless under normal circumstances. In
England of 1914, with spy-fever mounting,
their explanations seemed fantastic.

Flora Robson does a brilliant piece of
work as the plain, middle-aged, un-
imaginative British wife, entirely un-
lovely, rigid, proper. Una O'Connor is
funny because of her exact portrait of a
snippy, mean-spirited general servant,
frightening because of the power she
shows the petty people to have over the
great-spirited ones.

As is usual in Paul Muni's characteri-
zations, there is enough acting to carry
dual roles generously. As a result, Jane
Bryan's repose, her thoughtful under-
playing and her striking emotional talents
shine all the brighter.

TOWER OF LONDON— Universal

B They called him derisive names be-
hind his crooked back, but they
hesitated to show their hatred to his face
because he was the greatest duelist of
his day, and because his ruthless diplom-
acy was as deadly as his rapier. All too
often actors show Richard the Third of
England as a creature of such leering
evil, of such obvious wickedness, that it
becomes difficult to credit his tremendous
influence on the court. Basil Rathbone

makes him wicked, indeed, but virile and
intense and, in a rather frightening way,
immensely attractive. He makes quite
believable the ugly story of the ambition
that carried Richard closer and closer to
the throne until only the two little princes,
his nephews, stood between him and the
crown . . . the two little princes who dis-
appeared from the bloody Tower of
London, no one knows how to this day.

A truly excellent cast has been brought
together for the film which is the most
believable of this season's pretentious
costume dramas. There is singularly little
of the posturing, or of the acting up to
doublet and hose that so frequently mare
dramas of by-gone days. The writers
of the script did not make the mistake of
using modern slang, but neither did they
drag in "Prithee" and " 's Blood" between
every other word. The actors seem to
have put on their very attractive costumes
and then forgotten them. The director
seemed determined to tell a story about
violent people, rather than concentrate
on impressive mob scenes. All together
an entirely superior production.

Boris Karloff plays the club-foot ex-
ecutioner whose capacity for evil makes
his own Frankensteinian monster seem a
mischievous child at play by comparison.
Barbara O'Neil makes Queen Elyzabeth,
mother of the little princes, a convincing
woman rather than the usual stock figure.
Ian Hunter is a fine, hearty, roistering
Edward. No one can feel very sorry when
Vincent Price is toppled with a splash
into a butt of sack, there to drown in his
favorite liquid, so unhealthily evil does
he make the Duke of Clarence. Excellent
also are Ernest Cossart as the clownish
chimney sweep, Joan Sutton, Miles
Mander, Leo Carroll, Lionel Belmore,
Ralph Forbes, G. P. Huntley, Rose Hobart
and Nan Grey. This is a good way to
catch up on a chapter of history.

THE LIGHT THAT FAILED—

Paramount

| Dick was an artist and he loved
Maisie. Maisie was an artist and she
loved only her ambition. They met when
they were children. Dick kept the thought
of Maisie close to him during all the years
he was struggling for success, during all
of his adventures as a war reporter. He
knew that the words he had said as a
boy, "Maisie, we belong together," were
true for him. When he found Maisie
again, grown-up and beautiful, he knew
that he had found what he wanted.

This story by Rudyard Kipling is a none
too pleasant one, but it is convincing and
for that reason has engaged the imagina-
tions of readers for some thirty years. It
gives Ronald Colman opportunity for a
singularly touching performance, provides
Walter Huston with the very engaging

part of the loyal friend who understands
Dick and does his rough best to help. Ida
Lupino does an outstanding performance
as the gutter drab who poses for Dick's
masterpiece, and who destroys it and Dick
with it when she takes her shocking
revenge. Muriel Angelus is excellent as
the cool, shallow Maisie. It is an in-
vigorating experience to see, just once in
a while, a film in which human beings
meet the defeats of real life, find answers
other than the happy ending. See this
one for the excellence of the performances,
for the sturdy, logical story.

FOUR WIVES — Warners

J Remember that charming picture in
which the Lane Sisters and Gale Page
played the daughters of Claude Rains
who was cast as a nice old musician? It
was called Four Daughters. Then a little
later they made another film and every-
one was confused because while they still
played sisters, while they still had the
same boy friends, Fay Bainter played
their mother and Claude Rains turned
up as a ne'er-do-well father. That one
was called Daughters Courageous. Now
there is a new one. It is called Four
Wives. It picks up where the first story
ended, and escorts the four daughters to
maternity wards. Practically everyone in
the film has a baby, and it is all very jolly
and tiresome, especially since Warner
Brothers cannot be shaken from their

determination to make a story about the
Lemp girls every year and already are
laying plans for Four Mothers which un-
doubtedly will be followed in due course of
time by Fotir Divorcees, Four Mothers-
in-Law, Four Aunts, maybe by Four
Great-Great Grandmothers . . . who can
tell? There are those who wish the Lane
Sisters would call themselves Daughters
Rebellious and call off the whole thing.

THE GREAT VICTOR HERBERT —

Paramount

H Twenty-eight of Victor Herbert's
melodies are to be heard in this film
which is not so much the story of Victor
Herbert as a neat little love story con-
cerning two stars.

Allan Jones, who has been off the
screen for far too long, does handsomely
with the role of a conceited, charming,
selfish matinee idol. Mary Martin is very
effective in her first screen appearance
as the musical comedy singer who sacri-
fices career for love (where have we
heard about that before?), Walter Con-
nolly plays the great Victor Herbert with
charm, but the music, itself, emerges as
the real star of the offering.

Such favorites as "Kiss Me Again,"
"I'm Falling in Love With Someone," and
"Sweet Mystery of Life" are prettily
staged and very charming to hear again.
See it if you are fond of Victor Herbert's
music.

DAYTIME WIFE —

Twentieth Century-Fox

9 It is rather refreshing to see Tyrone
Power play his own age in modern
clothes, even though his newest film is
not nearly so important a production as
is usual for this star. He is seen as an
ambitious young business man who per-
turbs his wife by forgetting a present for
the second anniversary of their marriage.
She (Linda Darnell) is wise enough not
to reproach him. But, when a much mar-
ried friend (Binnie Barnes) suggests
that a secretary (Wendy Barrie) who
uses expensive perfume may explain
some of those late hours, she decides to
see just what goes on in the business
world. She secretly gets herself a job
with another business man (Warren
William) and, you've guessed it! The
two business men make a date to meet
with their respective secretaries for
dinner. Tyrone Power shows a talent for
comedy which has not had much oppor-
tunity before this, and, though the film
will never be on a ten-best list, it is a
pleasant enough way to pass an hour and
a half.

THE CAT AND THE CANARY —

Paramount

H After all, there is nothing quite like a
good clutching hand to make you
forget your troubles. If already you have
[Continued on page 17]

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New York, N. Y. (Signed) MARIAN BROWN

May 15, 1939 (Mrs. Boyd Patemo Brown)

NOWADAYS,it isn't enough
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"Why not help them to stay
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definitely milder. You'll find
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So try Camay. Notice how
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941

ACROSS

1. A star of Drums Along the Mohawk.

6. She portrayed Queen Elizabeth in recent film.

10. Dody Martini in Babes in Anns.

11. Jane Thomas in These Clamour Girls.

12. Gene Raymond is one.

14. One of Keystone Cops in Hollywood
Cavalcade.

15. Miss Bondi's initials.

16. Two Bright .

1 7. First name of male lead in The Escape.

18. His last name is Carrillo.

19. Initials of Director Dieterle.

20. Only Angels Have ■ (sing.)

21. Honor of the .

22. Married His Wife.

23. Descriptive of Joe E. Brown's grin.

24. Star of Ninotchka.

25. Artificial settings for motion picture scenes.

26. Rulers of the (pi.).

27. Morrissey in Eternally Yours.

29. Alice Faye's husband.

30. Dust My Destiny.

31. Brief comic sketch included in a revue.

32. A star of Fast and Furious.

33. Dancing Ed.

34. They Gave a Gun.

35. Mr. Smith to Washington.

36. Hunk in Heaven With a Barbed Wire Fence.

38. Ona Munson's initials.

39. Whose role was that of Judge Black in Babes
in Arms?

40. Actress wed to Francis Lederer.

41. Harcld Lloyd's glasses have none (sing.).

42. She was Peggy in Five Came Back.

43. ■ — ■ Right — You're Wrong.

44. Our Neighbors the .

DOWN

1. Mr. Bonaparte in Golden Boy.

2. He was teamed with Patricia Morrison in The
Magnificent Fraud.

3. Whose role was that of bartender in Hollywood
Cavalcade ?

4. Last reel.

5.. Nelson Eddy was born here (abbr.).

6. Jean Hersholt is one.

7. Another star of Fast and Furious.

8. Margaret Sullavan's birthplace (abbr.).

9. Arleen Whelan and Gordon Oliver played
opposite in this.

1 1 The girl in For Love or Money.

13. Featured actor in The Witness Vanishes.

14. It covers the neck of equine animals.

15. Margit in Intermezzo.

17. The From Kokomo (pi.).

IS. Whose role was that of Skeeter in Jeepers
Creepers ?

20. Flirting Death.

21. Chris in Smuggled Cargo.

22. Star of Meet Dr. Christian.

23. The Day the Bookies .

24. William Ramey in Blackmail.

25. Lanky comedian in All Quiet on the Western
Front.

26. Three .

28". Dr. Forster in Disputed Passage.

29. On Your .

30. Veda Ann's surname.

32. Baby Dumpling's playthings.

33. Gaston in Ninotchka.

35. They are used in war films.

36. He draws Donald Duck.

37. Animals such as Daisy and Asta.

39. Andy Hardy i Spring Fever.

40. Rochelle Hudson was born in this month
(abb.).

41. Gregory ■ Cava.

42. Initials of actor wed to Joan Fontaine.

(Solution on page 58)

Important Pictures

[Continued from page 15]

started collecting worry wrinkles over
the income tax, the old dark house on the
eerie bayou is the place for you. You will
be in fine company. Bob Hope, Paulette
Goddard, John Beal, Douglas Mont-
gomery, Nydia Westman and Elizabeth
Patterson gather for the reading of the
will, ten years on the stroke of midnight
after the death of an eccentric relative.
Escaped madmen, sliding panels, hidden
jewels, flickering lights, screams and
blows in the dark are supplied in lavish
plenty. Gale Sondergaard glides around
alarmingly listening to spirit voices. The
heroine constantly is being left all alone
in the library. The hero constantly is
backing up against one secret panel or
another, and you'll never guess who the
murderer is. New and very funny dia-
logue helps bring the good old stand-by
up to date.

THAT'S RIGHT-
RKO-Radio

-YOU'RE WRONG

B Those who follow Kay Kyser and his
College of Musical Knowledge on the
radio will be delighted with his screen
capers because he plays himself and be-
cause virtually a whole air program is
included in the film. Those people who
don't rush home from the office to catch

his program, probably won't rush to the
nearest theatre to see him anyway, so
everyone will be satisfied.

REMEMBER THE NIGHT— Paramount

H She was pretty and she was young
and she was tough. She liked lovely
things, and she got them for herself by
shop-lifting. When she was caught, just
before Christmas, the young prosecuting
attorney felt sorry for her. But he also
was annoyed by the fact that the holiday
spirit was exercising undue influence on
the jury, and that it was inclined to
consider the time of year rather than the
evidence. So he had the case postponed.
Then he bailed her out. Before the holi-
day was over, he had seen enough of her
past to make him understand her warped
philosophy. She had seen enough of his
background to realize that crime doesn't
pay. The acting, especially in the sup-
porting roles, is better than the story,
though Barbara Stanwyck and Fred
MacMurray carry leading roles com-
petently enough. Beulah Bondi and
Elizabeth Patterson play the two adoring
women who keep the mid-western home
fires burning for the return of the boy
who is making good in the big city.
Sterling Holloway has a fine time with
the role of the country lunk. And Willard

Aha ! You think it is Paul Muni in just
another beard? Wrong! It is Edward
G. Robinson in The Life of Dr. Ehrlich

Robertson does one of the funniest court-
room sequences you are likely to see as
the impassioned defense attorney.

WHEN NERVOUS TENSION
GETS YOU DOWN

JUST USE THIS GUM
FROM FLAVOR-TOWN

It is always refreshing and reslfgl. Your
choice of Peppermint, Spearmint, Oralgum
and 3 flavors of Beechies (candy coated) —
Peppermint, Spearmint and Pepsin. Below
is the famous "flavor" town of Canajo-
harie, N.Y. — known for Beech-Nut quality
and flavor.

!■

Mrs. Ernest do Pont, Jr., popu-
lar in Delaware society, sponsors
Wilmington's spectacular charity
ball — the Society Follies.

Miss Bette Miller helped found1
the Kansas City chapter of Rail-
way Business Women. The club's
winter dance is a gala function.

Zmtfe-Kmsas Gty Secretary

A Southerner, titian-haired Mrs. du
Pont is very hospitable, and her historic
old home on the Delaware is the scene
of many gay social affairs.

immmim j §f i

''mm 4; |

/b/ZoiY the same famous
Sh'nCa/e

QUESTION TO MRS. DU PONT:

Southern women are famous
for their complexions,
Mrs. du Pont. Do you have
any particular method of
skin care?

ANSWER:

"Yes. I don't believe in
taking chances with my
complexion — I always use
Pond's 2 Creams. Pond's
Cold Cream is perfect for
cleansing my skin — keeping
it soft and supple at the
same time. And for powder
base and protection against
weather, Pond's Vanishing
Cream is ideal!"

QUESTION TO MRS. OU PONT:

Do you feel that using
2 creams helps keep your
make-up fresh looking longer?

ANSWER:

"I'm sure it does! That's
why, before powder, I always
cleanse and soften my skin
with Pond's Cold Cream and
smooth it with Pond's
Vanishing Cream. This gives
my skin a finish that takes
make-up so well it looks
fresh for literally hours!"

QUESTION TO MISS MILLER:

When a girl works all day,
Bette, is it hard for her to
find time to take good care
of her skin?

ANSWER:

"Not if she follows my
system. It's quick, thorough
— and economical! I just use
the 2 Pond's Creams. First
Pond's Cold Cream to get
my skin really clean — give it
the clear, 'glowy' look that I
like. And then I never fail to
smooth on Pond's Vanishing
Cream for powder foundation
— it seems to make make-up
so much more attractive!"

QUESTION TO MISS MILLER:

When you're outdoors for
hours at a time, don't you
worry about sun and wind
roughening your skin?

ANSWER:

"No — why should I? Pond's
Vanishing Cream smooths
away little skin roughnesses
in only one application.
I usually spread on a light
film of Vanishing Cream
before I go outdoors, too.
Just for protection."

Off to work. After graduation from
high school, Bette got a secretarial job
in the Gulf, Mobile and Northern Rail-
road freight office.

Mrs. du Pont arrives by private plane at
the airport near her New Castle home,
looking fresh and unwearied after a
quick shopping trip to New York.

SEND FOR TRIAL
BEAUTY KIT

POND'S

Pond's, Dept. 6-CV-B, Clinton, Conn.

Rush special tubes of Pond's Cold Cream, Vanish-
ing Cream and Liquefying Cream (qnicker-uaeltiug
cleansing cream) and live different
shades of Pond's Face Powder. I
enclose 10c to cover postage and
packing.

Name,

Street.

City.

_Stale_

| Copyright, 1939, Pond's Extract Company

Bette and her companion share the

~\) local enthusiasm for bicycling. So popu-

3g lar is this sport in Kansas City that

traffic regulations became necessary!

susssu

Searlett had courage and
daring and an unbeatable
will, once she had set her
mind on a goal. Hollywood
is saying the same of its
newest star, Vivien Leigh

Hv PAUL LAKNAKD

a Heal m

carleit O'Ha

Above, Vivien Leigh as she appears in the graceful
costumes of Civil War days, strikingly like that
description of Scarlett in Margaret Mitchell's book

■ No matter what else may happen to
her in a career that already has been
crammed with color and change and that
promises even more exciting personal
triumphs in the future, it is likely Vivien
Leigh will always be remembered best
as Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With The
Wind.

Remembered as Scarlett,- not alone for
the long and widely publicized search
that preceded her selection, nor for the
truly great performance the young Eng-
lish actress is reported to have given, but

Left, her first meeting with
Laurence Olivier was when they
made Fire Over England together

chiefly because there is a striking
similarity of Vivien, herself, to the
rebellious romantic she portrays.
Scarlett O'Hara is one of the most vital
women who ever swished their petticoats
through the pages of American literature.
And Vivien Leigh is the living, breathing
embodiment of many of the challenging
characteristics that lifted Scarlett above
the level of less vivid ladies.

In the many months that Gone With
The Wind was in production, Vivien
Leigh didn't merely play Scarlett O'Hara.
She was Scarlett O'Hara, from the flirta-
tious curl at the top of her temperamental
head to the impatiently tapping toe of

her independent little foot. It was easy
for her to recapture the moods of Scarlett
because it was easy for her to under-
stand Scarlett.

Plenty of printer's ink has been used
to describe the physical resemblance of
Vivien Leigh to the green eyed, delicate
featured, tiny w a i s t e d, tempestuous
daughter of Tara. Vivien was, everyone
agreed when she was chosen to play
Scarlett, the perfect prototype of the por-
trait Margaret Mitchell had painted ver-
bally in her bulging best seller.

What is only now coming to be realized,
as Hollywood slowly pieces together an
intelligible impression of the vivid Vivien
who has been in its midst a year and yet
is known intimately to but a few, is how
kindred the self-contained little actress
is in her outlook, her ambitions, her very
philosophy of [Continued on page 60]

THRILLINGLY ON THE SCREEN! Those stirring days of
minstrels and river boats . . .when a great and stormy love put America's joys
and sorrows to music and gave us the songs we took to our hearts forever !

ltc«>°*

l*<

Q\S>

*X&

l****

no***

SOIREE POLKA

Sty

A»BB

*'W?«

«>Lo

"OlKS

The Story of Stephen C. Foster, the Great American Troubadour

with

DON AMECHE • ANDREA LEEDS • AL JOLSON

**o

**,

CAMPTOWN RACES

and

FELIX BRESSART • CHICK CHANDLER

RUSSELL HICKS • GEORGE REED

and HALL JOHNSON CHOIR

Directed by SIDNEY LANFIELD • Associate Producer Kenneth
Macgowan • Screen Play by John Taintor Foote and Philip Dunne ^ \iv

DARRYL F. ZANUCK in Charge of Production **>°

A 20th Century-Fox Picture

' ' Gentlemen, be seated I ' '

Girl

Without
a Country?

In this country, we think of
Son ja Henie as a Norwegian.
In her native laud, liter call
her a "Holly wood film star."
Here is an inside report from
her home town of her plans

■ There is, it appears, such a thing as
becoming so mudvof a cosmopolitan
that you lose the heart warming heritage
of a home town. Sonja Henie, whose
flashing skates have cut her an inter-
national reputation on the ice rinks of the
world, is fast sliding into the unhappy
status of a girl without a country.

For several years she has maintained
houses in both Norway and America and
yet, today, neither country is really home
to her.

To Hollywood, in the land of her adopt-
ion, she is still a Norwegian.

To Oslo, where she w"as born and bred,
Sonja now seems expatriated as "a Holly-
wood movie star."

Bv WILBUR MORSE, JR.

Ever since she zoomed into the con-
sciousness of the film capital with her
sensational ice show, her incredible white
automobile and her breath-taking salary
demands for picture making, Sonja Henie
has been looked on as a dimpled symbol of
Scandinavia; a round faced little girl with
an attractive smile who performed aston-
ishing feats on skates in two films a year
and then retired to her native Norway, a
background movie folk vaguely viewed as
consisting mostly of fish, furs and
fjords.

While she was in Hollywood, she might
chew gum, flavor her speech with "okays"
and dance a provocative rhumba with an
eligible American beau, yet, Froken Henie

was definitely a part of the "foreign-
colony."

Contrarily, in Norway, where you might
have expected to find her hailed as a
favorite daughter and greeted on each
return as a national heroine just a shade
less popular than good King Haakon,
Sonja is felt to have become so American-
ized she no longer seems a home girl but a
visiting celebrity from that fabulous film
city across the seas.

When I went to Norway last summer to
get a story about Sonja against the back-
ground of her native haunts, I made the
startling discovery that the skating star
still held the imagination of her country-
men by her past [Continued on page 41]

K Zctiie Tilbury Charles Grape-
I as Gramma win as Grampa

Russell Simp- Dorris Bowden Henry Fonda

son seen as Pa as Rosasharn as Tom Joad

John Carradine John Qualen Eddie Quillan

as the preacher a s "M n 1 i e" seen as Connie

The Grapes of Wrath

Our favorite extra works in Ihe much discussed
film about refugees from I he Dusf Bowl, and does
a good deal less complaining than usual for him

B> E. .1. (OKIE-DOK1E) SMITIISOV

DEAR EDITOR:

How I managed to get an extra job on Gropes of Wrath is no never-mind
of yours, Miss Editor, except that I will say thai if it hadn't been for Henry
King, of Weedpatch, (an Okie camp where some 1,000 migratory workers
live) I wouldn't have got the job because the sets and locations were
closed tighter than a Scotsman's pocketbook. Henry was brought down
from Weedpatch by the studio with several other refugees from the Dust
Bowl to see whether or no the film town was going to be fair to his people.
After being shown the Okie town the studio had built, Henry smiled his
approval. "It looks just like our'n," he told his guide, Director John Ford.
"It might be Weedpatch, sure 'nough. Beats all — it looks just like . . .
like home."

And in a way it was, too, because Director Ford hired Henry and his
family of seven. You'll see them on the screen playing for the square dances
just as they actually do of an evening back in their real home in Weedpatch,
which is located 17 miles south of Bakersfield, California.

| I happened to meet Henry King the day he arrived at the studio, and
I told him how anxious I was to get a job on the picture. I ought to
make a good Okie, I said, having been down and out so many times in the
course of my variegated life. I must have given Henry a pretty good sales
talk, because the next time I applied for work, the casting director said
something about "Okie, Dokie," and I was in as easy as that.

Reporting for work the next morning I got two surprises. Right off the
bat, a big, burly cop stopped me and gave me a rub-down from head to foot.
Right away I began dreaming up an alibi of some sort, thinking it might
develop into a pinch, but I didn't have to worry. All the copper was looking
for was a camera. Every extra was searched for one, the studio fearing
that production pictures might be secretly shot and later released. Not
even the studio was releasing production stills, and this copper was
stationed at the gate to see to it that no outsiders had a chance to snap any.
The next surprise came when I got to the make-up department. Some guy
tossed me a bunch of ragged clothes that a bindle -stiff would have sneered
at. A tattered and torn shirt, a pair of patched and faded overalls, and a
pair of shoes two sizes too big and so battered up that they weren't even
good enough for the dump heap! Then some smart alec took a handful of
dirt and practically threw it in my face. Right then and there I was ready
to fight, but I didn't because this smart guy said that nobody in the
picture, from Hank Fonda down to me, was wearing make-up. We all
were to work as was, plus the dirt he took pleasure in dishing up in our
muggs.

If you think us men extras squawked about this dirty work, you should
have been around when the girls came trooping in. As soon as each
arrived, the make-up experts grabbed them, removed all traces of rouge,
lip-stick and face powder, mussed up their hair, and then gave them a
smear of dirt. Ten minutes later you'd see them traipsing across the lot,
clad in bedraggled cotton dresses, sockless and shoeless. Lady, if they ever
de-glamourized a Hollywood gal they surely did it in this picture! The
casting director told me later that he looked at more than 900 female extras
before he found 150 of them who were sufficiently lean, pinched, and
hungry-looking. And even then, he said, half of these had to be "doctored"
up to give then a haggard appearance.

■ First off, let's get this straight about the film version of Grapes of
Wrath, John Steinbeck's controversial novel of the Dust Bowl refugees.
Because if we don't — if there's the tiniest of notions nesting in the back of
your pretty head that this is going to be just another movie — I might as
well stop writing about it here and now and thumb my way out to the
studios and look for another extra job.

But take it from me, a tired, dirty, dusty share-cropping refugee if there

HOLLYWOOD

Dust storms such as this swept over Oklahoma year after
year, driving from their lands thousands of families

What to do when the desert takes over? The Joad
family faced starvation if it staved. Thev had to leave

Thousands of ears, snch as this one
from The Grapes of Wrath, panted and
wheezed out of the forlorn Dust Bowl

Dorris Bowdcu in front of a set,
copied in every detail from an
actual shack used hy refugees

Actual camp ol a migrant family,
stranded hy failure of the pea
crop, photographed in California

ever was one, Grapes of Wrath isn't just another movie. To my
mind, after six days of wandering around in ancient jaloppies,
picking cotton, eating dust and living in broken-down shack
towns and camps; after watching John Ford direct, after
listening to the comments of dozens of real, honest-to-goodness
Okies employed in the picture, and after long talks with Uncle
Sam's technical advisor, Thomas Collins, (lent by the govern-
ment to 20th Century-Fox to see that the refugees were pre-
sented in their true light) , I'm of the unbiased and enthusiastic
opinion that Grapes of Wrath comes as close to being colossal
as any motion picture ever produced in Hollywood.

You know how it's been out here in Hollywood for years
back. Producers were so timid about hurting feelings that
they'd run for their mountain hide-outs whenever they got a
few protests in the mail. Several good yarns about the Spanish
Civil War were shelved because of complaints. Up until eight
or nine months ago no studio would touch a Nazi story because
of a few numerically weak but loud-voiced groups in this
country. Why, you must remember surely, when you were here,
that even to suggest that there were conditions in this country
that ought to be corrected, would bring a deluge of mail down
on the studios. Remember Darryl Zanuck's J Am a Fugitive
From a Chain Gang and how it scared the pants off of every
producer in the business? Sure you do. And you'll'maybe recall
how RKO, after giving Boy Slaves a big ballyhoo, suddenly
clamped the muzzle on and eased it, without fanfare, into the
movie theatres.

■ But now comes Grapes of Wrath to prove that Hollywood
is getting brave. If you've read the novel you know that
it's one of the most biting indictments that anyone has written
about a major social problem in the United States. Bankers,
insurance companies, the big farming [Continued on page 44]

FEBRUARY, 1940

Above, actual scene in a migrant camp in California.
Below, the Kern County Camp for Migrants, erected by
Resettlement Administration near Bakersfield, Calif.

Typhoon

A blow by blow description
of the joys and sorrows of
the filming of Par amount's
big. color South-Sea film

By
DUNCAN UNDERHIIX

Dorothy Lamour, in the much
discussed lava-lava which is re-
placing her justly famous sarong,
with Robert Preston in Typhoon

' '***■> ,

| Lava, as all graduates of Oxford and P.S. 36 are well
aware, is a hot volcanic fluid. Lava-lava, thence, by
extension, in a well-ordered world should be a double dose
of hot volcanic fluid-straight.

But lava-lava is part of the trick lexicography of the
cinematic South Seas, a land lying east southeast of Utopia,
and while its meaning is related to the old-fashioned single-
action lava, its connotations are not the same. "Hot," "vol-
canic" and "fluid" are all parts of its significance, but with
vast deviations from the accepted sense of the words.

The South Sea Island lava-lava is a garment designed to
confine some of the abounding charms of Dorothy Lamour.
Thus it may be accepted without question as hot and vol-
canic. The fluidity element of the definition has to do with
the way the lava-lava flows freely around the Lamour
contours without spilling over at any strategic point.
Typhoon, a Technicolor tone poem of pearls and passion
in the South Seas, will serve to introduce the lava-lava to
the world as the newest frame for the talents of Miss
Lamour. The Paramount technical department has pored
for months over dusty reference books, and cross-ques-
tioned hundreds of South Sea Islanders cast up on the
beach at Hollywood. It avers, without a twitch of self-
consciousness, that a lava-lava is not a sarong, and that
it resembles it only as a price-
less Batik resembles a swatch of
twenty - cent wallpaper.
The sarong, as students
of Miss Lamour's topog-
raphy will recall, has
about it a touch of the
tubular, a sheath-like

ferjSl

rigidity that obscures the sculpturesque
line. No such slander can be alleged
against the lava-lava, which being briefer
and more pliable, sticks closer to the sub-
ject and blends almost indistinguishably
with the wearer's personality.

| The Typhoon scenario, unwittingly
perhaps, calls for dozens of scenes in
which the lava -lava will be seen as an
accessory to Miss Lamour's primitive
struggles with typhoons, gales, pirates,
octopi, and that most savage of all the
elements — love.

Every two or three stanzas in the script,
a phrase like this rears its lovely
head:

"Her breast rises and falls spasmodically
as she is pinned to a giant tree by the full
force of the typhoon, the lava-lava cling-
ing to her storm -tossed, gallant young
body."

Storm-tossing is the least of the misad-
ventures that befall Miss Lamour's
gallant young body during the course of
Typhoon. The tale is an adaptation of
the famous sea tale by Joseph Conrad.
For added piquancy, the devilishly in-
ventive scenarists have added a goodly
number of story twists and moderniza-
tions.

In the original Typhoon there was an
island trader, a roughish fellow with a
heart of gold inlaid with platinum and
encrusted with diamonds. But in the
1940 Technicolor version this crusty ad-
venturer (Lynne Overman) turns up as
an island trader, but with a difference.
He is a Saratoga bookmaker oh the lam,
and the vehicle in which he is lamstering
around the South Sea Islands is not the
conventional ketch or lugger but
a submarine.
In this way the story is pro-
sit vided with a double-strung bow.
If, by any chance,
there should be in
\ the potential audience

^hk of Typhoon any astig-

matic persons who could not appreciate
the architectural oomph of the lava-lava,
they surely would be the type that would
vibrate emotionally to a submarine battle
between murderous renegade natives and
upstanding white Americans. Especially
when the upstanding white Americans
are led by Robert Preston in the character
of a regenerated alcoholic to whom love
brings a rekindling of the old white flame
of pure endeavor.

The submarine hove into the script at
a time when a series of shocking under-
water tragedies had familiarized the
public with the ghastly apparition of a
pointed prow sticking out of the ocean.
Just such a prow forms the backdrop for
many of the mounting melodramatic sub-
climaxes that whip Typhoon along to the
eventual envelopment of the lava-lava
lady in the bronzed biceps of her deliverer.

■ Catalina Island, that old beachcomber
among islands, impersonates in the
production the tropical hideaway on
which Miss Lamour is cast up by Dat Ol'
Debbil Typhoon. At the time she is a
tender maiden of middy-blouse age, the
seagoing daughter of a dipsomaniac
daddy. Thus at ten or thereabouts
we find her fully acquainted with
pool-hall slang stevedore invective and
a working knowledge of the horrors of
gin.

Sole survivor of the shipwreck, she
takes up residence in an old abandoned
treetop, where she soon strikes up a
platonic friendship with a chimpanzee
who is evidently a graduate of the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology,
since he has rigged up an elevator from
the ground to the aerial apartment.

While Dorothy is growing up among the
wild hibiscus, romping in the surf and
singing duets with her chum, the chimp,
Robert Preston, her man of destiny, is
degenerating into a dirty white at Sloppy
Sam's place on the mainland. Preston's
face is dirty white, his suit is dirty white
and his nearest friend is in White
Plains, N. Y. He spends his time wrang-
ling with Sloppy Sam's credit manager, a
reprehensible Cockney, until the arrival
of Lynne Overman, who is cruising
around in his submarine— Bookmakers'
Special Model — looking for high ad-
venture, low life
and a set of fab-
ulous black pearls.
"Why sit around
and fester in a

saloon," Lynne asks Preston, "when you
can join me in the annual clambake and
black pearl hunt on Voom-Voom Island?
As a matter of fact I can use you to good
advantage because I have been driving
this pig-boat without a license. You can
bring along your old submarine -driver's
license left over from the time you were
kicked out of Annapolis, and everything
will be Jake or its equivalent."

Preston agrees and the story gets under
way at a smart pace of sixteen nautical
miles per hour. Dorothy is in her tree-
top singing torch songs with her chim-
panzee roommate; Preston, wearing
white whites as a symbol of purity re-
gained, is at the periscope of the book-
maker's submarine, and high adventure
is lurking off to leeward.

[ The way to get the blow-by-blow
blowdown of Typhoon is to whisk
away to Catalina and look over Director
Louis King's shoulder as the Technicolor
film unwinds at the rate of about $2,000
per unwind.

Planted doggedly on the beach at
Director King's left is Dr. E. F. Winckel,
a knowledgeable old South Sea Islander
with a twinkling eye remindful of Foxy
Grandpa. The learned doc is a veteran
of twenty-six years in the East Indies
and associated backwaters, and speaks all
the worthwhile languages current in those
parts. The twinkle in his eye is accounted
for by the fact that he has personally in-
spected more than 10,000 lava-lavas and
their contents, being also an expert on the
gossamer garments worn by the islanders.
In ethnological matters Doc Winckel is
a purist, a circumstance that raised a
merry hurrah with the Typhoon shooting
schedule. It was he who threw the
Lamour wardrobe wizards into overtime
spasms by decreeing that the lava-lava —
not the sarong — should be used to enhance
the celebrated Lamourean allure. And it
was he who shifted the locale of the story
some 3,000 miles eastward because the
island originally selected as the site of
the action was not in the typhoon belt but
in hurricane country.

From a comfortably upholstered loge
seat, a typhoon may look like a hurricane
and no questions asked. But Doc Winckel
nixed such a shoddy substitution and,
with one sweep of his membership scroll
in the National Georgraphic Society,
whisked the whole business a thousand
leagues to port.

This necessitated other momentous
changes in addition to jettisoning the
nationally advertised sarong, which is a
phenomenon of Hurricania. The people
hired by the Paramount casting office to
impersonate islanders were, in Doc
Winckel's opinion, facially akin to natives
of the hurricane country. Hurricanes and
hurricany people had already been ex-
ploited to the hilt by Neighbor Sam
Goldwyn, and Doc Winckel insisted that
it would be unsporting
to steal any of Sam's
wind and rain. Hence
new people had to be
hired — people who
looked typhoony.
[Continued on page 48]

Typhoon

A blow bv blow description
of Hi*' J«vs and sorrows of
the filming of ParaniounlN
big, color So nth -Sea film

im >r\\ i m»i itmi i

Dorothy Lamour, In the much
discussed lava-lava which is re-
placing her justly famous sarong,
with Robert Preston in Typhoon

M Lava, as all graduates of Oxford and P.S. 36 are w

aware, is a hot volcanic fluid. Lava-lava, thence v
extension, in a well-ordered world should be a double d
of hot volcanic fluid -straight.

But lava-lava is part of the trick lexicography 0f th
cinematic South Seas, a land lying east southeast of Uw *
and while its meaning is related to the old-fashioned sinefe
action lava, its connotations are not the same. "Hot," \ {
canic" and "fluid" are all parts of its significance, but with
vast deviations from the accepted sense of the words

The South Sea Island lava-lava is a garment designed t
confine some of the abounding charms of Dorothy Lamour
Thus it may be accepted without question as hot and vol
canic. The fluidity element of the definition has to do Wi»h
the way the lava-lava flows freely around the Lamour
contours without spilling over at any strategic p0jnt
Typhoon, a Technicolor tone poem of pearls and passion
in the South Seas, will serve to introduce the lava-lava to
the world as the newest frame for the talents of ft^
Lamour. The Paramount technical department has pored
for months over dusty reference books, and cross-ques-
tioned hundreds of South Sea Islanders cast up on the
beach at Hollywood. It avers, without a twitch of self-
consciousness, that a lava-lava is not a sarong, and that
it resembles it only as a price-
less Batik resembles a swatch of
twenty - cent wallpaper.
The sarong, as students
of Miss Lamour's to]
raphy will recall,
about it a touch of the
tubular, a sheath-like

| The Typhoon scenario, unwittingly
perhaps, calls for dozens of scenes in
which the lava-lava will be seen as an
accessory to Miss Lamour's primitive
struggles with typhoons, gales, pirates,
octopi, and that most savage of all the
elements — love.

Every two or three stanzas in the script,
a phrase like this rears its lovely
head:

"Her breast rises and falls spasmodically
as she is pinned to a giant tree by the full
force of the typhoon, the lava-lava cling-
ing to her storm-tossed, gallant young
body."

In this way the story is pro-
vided with a double-strung bow.
If, by any chance,
there should be in
the potential audience
of Typhoon any astig-

matic persons who could not appreciate
the architectural oomph of the lava-lava
they surely would be the type that would
vibrate emotionally to a submarine battle
between murderous renegade natives and
upstanding white Americans. Especially
when the upstanding white Americans
are led by Robert Preston in the character
of a regenerated alcoholic to whom love
brings a rekindling of the old white flame
of pure endeavor.

The submarine hove into the script at
a time when a series of shocking under-
water tragedies had familiarized the
public with the ghastly apparition of a
pointed prow sticking out of the ocean
Just such a prow forms the backdrop for
many of the mounting melodramatic sub-
climaxes that whip Typhoon along to the
eventual envelopment of the lava-lava
lady in the bronzed biceps of her deliverer.

■ Catalina Island, that old beachcomber
among islands, impersonates in the
production the tropical hideaway on
which Miss Lamour is cast up by Dat 01'
Debbil Typhoon. At the time she is a
tender maiden of middy-blouse age, the
seagoing daughter of a dipsomaniac
daddy. Thus at ten or thereabouts
we find her fully acquainted with
pool-hall slang stevedore invective and
a working knowledge of the horrors of
gin.

Sole survivor of the shipwreck, she
takes up residence in an old abandoned
treetop, where she soon strikes up a
Platonic friendship with a chimpanzee
who is evidently a graduate of the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology,
since he has rigged up an elevator from
the ground to the aerial apartment.

While Dorothy is growing up among the
wild hibiscus, romping in the surf and
singing duets with her chum, the chimp,
Robert Preston, her man of destiny, is
degenerating into a dirty white at Sloppy
Sam's place on the mainland. Preston's
face is dirty white, his suit is dirty white
and his nearest friend is in White
Plains, N. Y. He spends his time wrang-
ling with Sloppy Sam's credit manager, a
reprehensible Cockney, until the arrival
of Lynne Overman, who is cruising
around in his submarine — Bookmakers'
Special Model — looking for high ad-
venture, low life
and a set of fab-
^ ulous black pearls.

~^ "Why sit around

and fester in a

saloon." Lynne asks Preston, "when you
can join me in the annual clambake and
black pearl hunt on Voom-Voom Island?
As a matter of fact I can use you to good
advantage because I have been driving
this pig-boat without a license. You can
bring along your old submarine-driver's
license left over from the time you were
kicked out of Annapolis, and everything
will be Jake or its equivalent."

■ The way to get the blow-by-blow
blowdown of Typhoon is to whisk
away to Catalina and look over Director
Louis King's shoulder as the Technicolor
film unwinds at the rate of about $2,000
per unwind.

Planted doggedly on the beach at
Director King's left is Dr. E, F. WInckel,
a knowledgeable old South Sea Islander
with a twinkling eye remindful of Foxy
Grandpa. The learned doc is a veteran
of twenty-six years in the East Indies
and associated backwaters, and speaks all
the worthwhile languages current in those
parts. The twinkle in his eye is accounted
for by the fact that he has personally in-
spected more than 10,000 lava-lavas and
their contents, being also an expert on the
gossamer garments worn by the islanders,
In ethnological matters Doc Winckel is
a purist, a circumstance that raised a
merry hurrah with the Typhoon shooting
schedule. It was he who threw the
Lamour wardrobe wizards into overtime
spasms by decreeing that the lava-lava —
not the sarong — should be used to enhance
the celebrated Lamourean allure. And it
was he who shifted the locale of the story
some 3,000 miles eastward because the
island originally selected as the site of
the action was not in the typhoon belt but
in hurricane country.

From a comfortably upholstered loge
seat, a typhoon may look like a hurricane
and no questions asked. But Doc Winckel
nixed such a shoddy substitution and,
with one sweep of his membership scroll
in the National Georgrophic Society,
whisked the whole business a thousand
leagues to port.

How To Be a Villain

One of the most admirable demonstra-
tions of the well-known British refusal
to be flurried is this story. For that
reason we are proud to print it, and
also because it is one of the finest bits of
satire to come out of Hollywood. Three
days before he left Hollywood to rejoin
his regiment in England. David IViven
took the time for this light-hearted in-
terview and posed for hours so that
Charlie Rhodes might take these shots.
Hats in the air for a gallant gentleman

By KAY PROCTOR

"Ah, ha! Me proud beauty," villain The dictator-type villain The injured-innocence villain

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■Hi

■ If you want to go on thinking David
Niven is (1) a Grade A gilt edged
hero with pure and lofty thoughts about
the birds, bees and babes; (2) an irre-
pressible playboy with a devastating sense
of humor; or (3) merely the dangerously
good looking and charming gent whom
all the glamour gals in town vainly have
tried to hogtie into matrimony, I suppose
that's your privilege. The Bill of Rights
says it is and I'm not one to quarrel with
the law except maybe about how long I
actually was parked in that 15 minute
zone and maybe you don't think I'm not
going to give Officer Peetrie a piece of
my mind about that one of these days.

If, however, you can stand the bitter
truth about Davie, that's different. The
truth is, under all that glamorous charm,
back of that winning smile, in his self of
selves, David Niven claims to be as mon-
strous a villain as ever walked the streets
of Hollywood. He thinks of himself with
modest pride as the original Evil One, a
black-hearted Machiavelli, an abandoned
soul reveling in wickedness!

He even brags about it.

"These posturing Rathbones, these
brutish Bogarts, these glowering Tami-
roffs and sneering Calleias!" he scoffed.
"The colossal impertinence, the downright
insolence of them calling themselves
villains! It is to laugh!"

I said mildly I'd always thought the
boys did a pretty good job of dirty work
at the crossroads. Davie gave me a pained
look.

"My dear," he said patiently, drawing
his chair cosily close, "their technique, I'm
sorry to inform you, is absolutely ele-
mentary. Grade school stuff. Of course
the poor lads do the best they can but — "

In what way were they so woefully
inadequate? I asked.

"The fine points escape them com-
pletely," he pronounced judgment. "What
they do not seem to grasp is the essence,
the fine flavor of the work. True villainy
is a beautiful thing, a great art which
must be tenderly practised as such. It is
not enough simply to stab a man in the
back, belay a woman with a crowbar, or
throttle a baby with bare hands. It must
be done with delicacy, with finesse, and
above all, with imagination. It is in those
fields, I must modestly confess, that I
shine so brilliantly."

Was that so, I said. Funny thing I'd
never seen any evidence of it on the
screen.

"No," he said darkly. "Conspiracy,
you know."

"What a pity!" I tch-tched. He said yes
it was, because he had spent long hours
and much hard work on his super villainy
only to have his magnificent talents born

to blush unseen. But, he added philo-
sophically, there was one bright side to
it; he was living proof that any man can
do it, providing his heart is in his work.

"That's the trouble with those fellows,"
he said earnestly. "They don't really have
the proper enthusiasm for their work.
They put no oomph in it. Yes, and here's
another thing: limit them to the common-
place— blackmail, murder, arson and such
— -and I suppose they can muddle through
well enough; but confront them with the
emergencie extraordinaire and they are
caught as flat-footed as one of Bing
Crosby's nags at the post."

What's an emergencie extraordinaire!
I wanted to know.

"Well, a baby show, for example," Davie
said. An unholy gleam filled his eyes.
"Ahhhh! There really is an exquisite
opportunity for the artistic dastard! And
by the way, watch your spelling. Hays
Office, you know."

Boldly I asked if he had time to eluci-
date. "Righto!" he said. All he had to do
in the next few hours was finish the re-
takes on Raffles, his first starring picture
for Goldwyn; pack an entire wardrobe,
dispose of his furniture, place his house-
boy in congenial surroundings; attend
three cocktail parties and a farewell
dinner; wash his hair and catch a boat.
Or rather, catch [Continued on page 49]

Krank, open-faced villain

The baby-killer villain

Snake-in-the-grass villain

The repentant villain

Zoo in Hollywood

What does a glamorous star do with her spare
time ? Well, she trains ocelots, for one thing

* • • *

By WINIFRED AYDELOTTE

| Starting an interview with a custard
pie technique is not recommended by
the best authorities. But I'm an expert
at it. Like the time I managed to ma-
neuver the two steps leading down into
Claudette Colbert's living room, only to
step on a small rug that was lurking there
and go sailing across the room. I made

Center, Sigrid Gurie
and one of her Great
Danes. Below, in an
argument with Mac,
85-year-old parrot,
and posing with
Lancelot the ocelot

OS*

a two-point landing at the feet of the
surprised but entranced Claudette. Things
like that break the ice — if nothing else.

Or the time the squab on my plate
suddenly lifted its well-broiled wings and
flew across Dolores Del Rio's table. Her
butler, playing short stop, made a beauti-
ful one-handed catch. This covered him
with embarrassment. Probably he figured
that he should have let it bounce once,
for courtesy's sake.

Then there was the time I coyly sat in
the small chair belonging to one of Bing
Crosby's children, and couldn't get out
of it.

But enough of these distressing rem-
iniscences. What happened when Sigrid
Gurie's butler showed me into the living
room, is my current embarrassment, and
painful enough. He said that Miss Gurie
was still at lunch, and glanced reproach-
fully at the clock. I was half an hour early.
A little later a girl came shyly into the
room and said, "Hello." Miss Gurie's
secretary sent to amuse me, I thought,
and tore my attention from a marine
painting long enough to ask her to tell
her employer that I knew I was early and
not to rush through lunch.

"Please," said the girl, "I am Sigrid
Gurie."

In this case, I think my mistake was
justified. Remember Miss Gurie
in Marco Polo? Remember her
in Algiers? Have you seen her
yet in Rio? This was no
sophisticated woman of
[Continued on page. 64]

-■■' ■ >'.: .

r*.

..-- ;*

$k£

Training starts
early for Great
Dane puppies in
Sigrid Gurie's zoo

>"/.'.

"You cant expect to win

NEW LUCK

if you wear an Old Shade of Powder!

Is the powder shade that flattered
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HOW MANY MONTHS have passed since
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Can you be sure that right now you're not
wearing a shade of face powder that is
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ruining your chance for popularity?

The shade you wore as little as four
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That's why I make my powder in ten
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It's really important to find yow

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Find your lucky shade, send for all

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Next, make exactly the same test with
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(You can paste this on a
Lady Esther, penny postcard)

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rnrri Please send me FREE AND POSTPAID
' •»»— I— ♦ your 10 new shades of face powder,
also a tube of your Four Purpose Face Cream.

Name_

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{If you live in Canada, write Lady Esther, Toronto, Ont.)

Battling Star

"w_ 1

1 iiiiiiimiiiflr** , immir—m

r Ull^^i*(»*"|(,,,ip--

MtfiHi Mil lw , m^^i-

George Raft looks just the same in Invisible
Stripes and House Across the Bau9 and indeed
in all of his films, so the shot above nicely illus-
trates both new parts. This story tells you
something of what goes on behind that mask

By IAN DUNCAN

■ A psychoanalyst should be willing to
pay a year of his life for the privilege
of exploring George Raft's mind with
notebook and camera.

There is some rich delving to be done
behind that highly -polished facade that
has been peering Sphinx-like from the
nation's screens these ten eventful years
without betraying, by so much as a fleeting
frown, what's going on inside.

Maybe the guy is just proud; certainly
pride is one of the baffling elements that
make him the Puzzle Man of Hollywood.
He fairly bristles with self-respect; the
militant kind of self-respect that is
likely to develop in a self-made man,
the kind that can't be compromised by

so much as one thousandth of an inch.

George Raft's self-respect has won him
some notable battles. During his eight
years with Paramount, which was prac-
tically a running gunfight between George
and the front office, he entrenched himself
behind his self-respect in one bitter siege
and refused to be dislodged by money,
blandishments, fire, flame, logic or threats.

The occasion was the historic battle
over The Story of Temple Drake. This
was a morbid and lurid novel by William
Faulkner, probably the unhappiest choice
ever made for a major screen vehicle and
a natural target for the embryonic
Legion of Decency. Sadism, rape and
kindred jollities were forever in the fore-

ground and the background was knife-
throwing, hysteria and pure horror.

The studio decided that George should
play the part of the head scorpion in this
devilish stew. George decided otherwise,
insisting then, as he does now, that he has
no objection to portraying varmints so
long as there is a single redeeming feature
about them. But he will not play pure,
triple-distilled scoundrels, and that's that.

The Temple Drake case dragged along
like the courtship of Miles Standish,
George becoming more adamantine as
ultimatum succeeded ultimatum. The
picture had been promised to exhibitors.
Finally, rather than admit itself stymied,
Paramount drafted Jack LaRue into the
villain's part and let the show go on.

This was not his only victory behind the
scenes. He has yet to lose a battle in the
conference room. Despite his continuous
skirmishing against studio discipline his
income has risen every year. The instant
he stepped into the free-lance ranks he
was snapped up by Universal to star in a
film called I Stole a Million. When his
Universal chore was finished, Warners
signed him to a term contract. After
finishing two on his new home lot, he was
allowed an outside picture, the salary to
accrue to his own bulging pockets. Six
offers materialized. Walter Wanger's was
the best and George is oyer at Wanger's
now making a story about prison life
called The House Across the Bay.
. Associated with him in the picture are
about a dozen of "the boys," as George
calls his retinue of dependents. These
are miscellaneous admirers and pensioners
who have attached themselves to the Raft
bandwagon and refused to be dislodged.

Mack "Killer" Gray is not to be con-
strued as in this category. The Killer is
an actor, having had speaking parts in
twenty feature pictures. He is a sort of
companion-secretary, bodyguard and
knight-at-arms. The rest of the retainers
are not so useful to the kingpin. The best
they can do is follow Raft around from
picture to picture, and act as atmosphere
players in his starring vehicles. Raft's
pictures always need plenty of mugg
types, luckily.

Raft believes that criticism is helpful to
these satellites of his and doesn't hesitate
to give it to them. "Look at that hard
guy," he suggested, pointing out one of his
volunteer henchmen who was suffering
from a Technicolor eye and enlargement
of the nose. "With a couple of drinks
under his belt he thinks he's Camera.
Some high school kid gave him his
lumps."

Also carrying a Screen Actors' Guild
card by virtue of his acquaintance with
Raft is a town character nicknamed The
Dummy, a mute newsboy who joined the
troupe years ago and has never chosen to
desert. If Raft quit pictures tomorrow a
whole battalion of Boulevard figures
would be destitute.

Convict characters weave their way in
and out of George's life with monotonous
regularity. In The House Across the Bay
George himself is under sentence for the
third time in a row, having previously
made the can in [Continued on page 59]

I don't know how it is in your town, but
in ours "Amateur Night" is a real event.
Everybody goes. Anyone who has a talent
tries for a chance. I practiced my song-
and-dance act for weeks and then . . .!

When the big day came it proved to
be one of my "difficult days." Not only
was I frightened to pieces to wear a white
costume before all those eyes, but chafing
made dancing a torture. So . . .

I decided I'd give up the whole idea— when my
singing teacher came to the rescue ! "Little goose !"
she laughed, after hearing my woes. "Haven't you
heard about Miracle Modess with that wonderful
new feature— 'Moisture Zoning'?" And . . .

In less than a minute she had rounded
up some Modess and was showing
me why "Moisture Zoning" is the
grandest comfort-discovery in years
— because it acts to direct moisture
inside the pad, leaving the sides dry
and soft longer than ever before! I
certainly was impressed, but she
wasn't through.

"Just look at this Modess filler," she
went on. "It's a fluff-type filler — so
different from layer-type napkins.
Just as downy as a powder puff!
And see, Modess has a moisture-
resistant backing— it's safer, too!"
She sprinkled some water on it and
not a drop passed through. Well,
that was enough for me!

Thanks to her tip, I went out there before that crowd as self-
possessed as you please and sang and danced my best. And when
school's over, I'm to try my act on a larger stage. Maybe I'll
never be a big-time star, but anyway I got my chance, thanks to
teacher and that wonderfully comfortable Miracle Modess !

Now- New Miracle Modess brings you "Moisture Zoning"

Questions and answers always are fun.
Ginger Rogers had so much amusement
from this "Personality Analysis" that
she gave us answers to check with yours

■ The desire to analyze one's self is one
of the strongest emotions in human
nature. Own up to it — you have that
desire, too. It's normal, and everyone,
whether he is rich or poor, a success or a
failure, would like to have the power to
look into that personal machine which is
"I," and to see what makes the mysterious
wheels of the mind go round.
If you answer the questions in this Per-

Uy HELEN HOVER

sonality-Analysis Test, you may discover
many things about that mind of yours.
Ginger Rogers declares that she had
a lot of fun taking the test, and she
proved herself an excellent sport by
allowing us to print her answers, and

also the results of her personal analysis.
When you see Miss Rogers' answers,
and read what her test reveals of her, you
may understand her better. You will
understand why, for instance, she secludes
herself in a hilltop house, seldom going
out, when she is still young, vivacious
and has the world of men at her feet — why
she goes on secret vacations and yet is not
guilty of pulling [Continued on page 54]

Cut the comedy and try Clapp's . . .

BABIES TAKE TO CLAPP'S!

There's no mystery about it really. Clapp's
are garden-fresh when canned. That's one
thing. They're ever so lightly salted according
to doctors' directions— that's two. And years of
plant-breeding and soil selection have made
them rich in the minerals and vitamins that
go along with appetizing flavor . . . Open up
several different kinds of Strained Spinach, for
instance, and taste them. You'll be astonished
at the extra freshness and goodness of Clapp's!

Here's another point you might not notice-
but babies do. Clapp's have just the right tex-
ture to give a baby's tongue real exercise with-
out getting it into trouble. Babies appreciate
that. So do doctors— they've been giving us
tips about what babies like in texture and fla-
vor for 19 years. For Clapp's is not only the
oldest baby foods house— it is the only one of
any importance that makes nothing but foods
for babies and young children.

17 Strained Foods for Babies

Soups- Vegetable Soup • Beef Broth
Liver Soup • Unstrained Baby Soup
Vegetables with Beef • Vegetables — Toma-
toes ♦ Asparagus • Spinach • Peas • Beets
Carrots • Green Beans • Mixed Greens
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Rest Cure
For Bette

Why Bette Davis fled from Hollywood for a
long lazy sojourn in the quiet of New England

By BADIE HARRIS

Pi "You can't count your blessings
when you're tired."

It was the First Lady of Hollywood
talking — twice honored Academy
award winner and, so far leading con-
tender for this year's "Oscar" . . . Bette
Davis to you.

We were sitting in the garden of her
Brentwood Heights retreat, now her
bachelor quarters since her divorce
from "Ham" Nelson. She didn't have
to tell me how tired she was. It showed
on her pale drawn face — the dark
shadows under her eyes — and the rest-
less hands that lit cigarette after
cigarette.

"How can I appreciate this lovely
house?" Her eyes gazed vacantly at
the azaleas in full bloom, the pansy

beds that lined the terraced walk
leading to the emerald pool. "While
I worked on Elizabeth and Essex, I was
too tired to even come home at night.
I lived in my studio dressing room.
How can I enjoy my work any more,
when it's become just that — work?"

I know I should have reacted with
sympathy, but I couldn't suppress a
smug grin.

"I know exactly what you're think-
ing," Bette grinned back at me. "You're
remembering a similar conversation we
had three summers ago. I was in the
same state of nervous exhaustion then,
after making Marked Woman, Kid
Galahad, That Certain Woman and Ifs
Love I'm After, and I vowed I'd never
allow myself to [Continued on page 39]

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Abe Lincoln

in Hollywood

Raymond Massey declares that life in Lincoln's
day was much more simple than in the twentieth
century, even though there weren't any movies

By JESSIE HENDERSON

■ Over the dam came the ferry boat, the
sixty-one hogs, and the man. Missing
its safe niche on the wooded shore, the
heavy craft hung an instant upon the
dam's glossy lip and then plunged nose
first among the rocks of the riverbed be-
low, man and hogs thrashing about in the
rapids. The man was Abraham Lincoln on
his way, though he knew it not, to meet
the one great love of his career.

In other words, the man was Raymond
Massey, getting a load of American
pioneer life in the 1830's. And loving it.
"So much easier than life today," he ex-
plained, shedding hogs and Mackenzie
river from his hair and preparing to do the
whole thing once again.

He hadn't wanted a double for this se-
quence of Abe Lincoln in Illinois, though a
double had waited, flexing his muscles, for
a week. No, Mr. Massey wanted to do it
himself. Off in the wilds of this "New
Salem, HI." location, on the banks of the
"Sangamon" — really along the Mackenzie
at the spot near Eugene, Ore., — Mr.
Massey wanted to find out at first hand
what Lincoln went through in his early
years. He found out!

They re-made that scene all day. When
it had been done to suit Director John

Cromwell, the doctor found a nasty wound
on Massey's head, a sprained ankle, a
strained tendon in his thigh, and as many
bruises and abrasions as the young
Lincoln himself would have sustained in
a tussle with a b'ar.

Some time elapsed before Massey was
able to proceed to the next scene and
chase one of the escaped hogs through the
woods where, a shoat beneath his arm, he
first met sweet Ann Rutledge (Mary
Howard), the girl he always loved, even
though, after her death he married Mary
Todd (Ruth Gordon of the New York
stage).

For several weeks after those ferryboat
trips over the dam, Massey wore a band-
age on his ankle and limped a little when
the camera wasn't looking. So life was
easier then, eh? How come?

"Existence is a lot harder today,"
Massey insisted despite his bandages: "In
Lincoln's time, everything was simpler.
You knew which side you were on, you
knew what you were fighting for. The
issues in politics, for instance, weren't so
infernally confused and subtle. Life was
more difficult physically, but much less
difficult psychologically. You had a balky
horse, but not a skidding car. With young

Captain Lincoln of the state militia, you
went out to fight the Black Hawk Indians
— and you knew approximately where to
find them. You didn't have to fight gang-
sters that popped at you from alleys on
apparently peaceful avenues."

Massey's brown eyes glinted, half in-
dignant and half humorous. He has a
ready sense of humor. He resembles
Lincoln so strongly in real life, has played
him so successfully upon the stage — and
now on the screen — that perhaps it is no
wonder he has a Lincoln flair for fun.

At the log cabin village built outside
Eugene, Ore., for the early sequences of
the film, he appeared to be in his element.
It was pioneer stuff with a vengeance, but
the more primitive it was, the better he
liked it ... . those small, one-room log
cabins with their stick-and-clay chim-
neys, the squirrel gun above the hearth
and the grease lamp burning with a smelly
and none too certain flame ....

"Splendid!" Massey exulted — a trifle
weary of civilized Broadway, perhaps, and
maybe even weary of civilization in his
native Toronto, Canada, or in Oxford,
England, where he completed his edu-
cation— "how much less complicated
housekeeping was then! No telephones to
wake you up for a wrong number, no
telegrams routing you out of bed in early
dawning, no electric light bill, no radio
going all day in the neighbor's apartment.
Not even any steam pipes clanking and no
janitor with a grouch. No milkman for-
getting to leave the cream —

"Breakfast! They really had breakfast!"

Massey rolled his eyes as if food meant
a great deal to him. It doesn't, though.
He's six feet three, like Lincoln, a little
stooped like Lincoln, and as gaunt as
Lincoln ever was. He doesn't eat big
meals, but perhaps he would if he ever
had time.

"No half an orange and a cup of black
coffee! No hardbaked toast and a glass of
hot water with lemon juice!" he pro-
ceeded, "I'm saying they ATE. We routed
out some sample breakfasts from Lincoln's
day — I shudder to think what those pio-
neers would have said to the little morning
snacks they would get today.

"Lincoln got away with cornbread, and
plenty of it; cured meat; wild fruit such
as blackberries or huckleberries or wild
plums; and wild game, like pheasant or
partridge. Those open fireplaces certainly
could cook. Another breakfast Lincoln
had went like this: wheatcakes — six or so;
several really thick slices of bacon, none
of your dainty slivers; coarse oat porridge;
fried potatoes. Of course if he felt hungry
after this, he could always snatch the
squirrel gun from above the mantel and
go shoot himself a squirrel or a rabbit or,
if he felt really hungry, a deer."

Massey considered a minute. "He
wouldn't have to go out to the tennis
court for exercise, either. I hate tennis,
myself. Nor off to the golf links A few
hours of swinging an axe to split fence
rails, or of following the plow, or appar-
ently even of waiting on customers at
Offut's store, and he was ready for his
noontime dinner. About twice the break-
fast ration. Yes, sir, a man respected his

digestive tract when it kept him going to
carve out a new country."

■ The newness of the carving came to
light in that "New Salem" set and also
in the later "Springfield, 111." set. The
picture, you know, deals with the 30 years
of Lincoln's life in Illinois between 1830
and his election to the Presidency. It
takes in his admittance to the Illinois bar,
his election to the Illinois legislature, and
the famous Douglas-Lincoln debates
which established him as Presidential
timber.

Springfield, 111., considered itself quits
an important metropolis in those days,
and Mary Todd Lincoln's house was full
of carpets and gewgaws amid which
Lincoln in his great boots and his ever-
wrinkled clothes moved awkwardly.
("Civilization was beginning to taint
existence by that time," Massey pointed
out, "they were on the verge of the era
of hand-painted cuspidors.") But still
the town had an air of newness about it;
the nondescript court-house with its row
of hitching-posts; the livery stable sign
in ornate script down the main street; the
'Oasis Saloon"; the coppersmith who ad-
vertised "bed-warmers expertly finished";
and the modest new sign in an upper
window — "Stewart and Lincoln, Coun-
sellors-at-Law."

"It was still a new country," Massey
said, "that's the thing which interests me
most about these sets, and about the story
of Lincoln. The country was still ex-
panding, while today it is almost con-
tracting. It would have been strange if
Lincoln had not emerged as a man of
great prominence. With the country as
it was, any man with initiative and with
brains above the average could make a

A few minutes after this picture was
taken, barge, hogs and Raymond Massey
all went over the dam and into the water.
Massey came up spluttering that the
pioneer life still was all right with him

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success. It isn't so much like that in our
times. That's what I mean when I say
life was easier then."

■ Ruth Gordon swished past as Mary
Todd. She wore the hoopskirted, dark
gown of the era, and the nagging frown
which she usually had for Abraham. Mary
did so want Abraham to make something
of himself; to be civilized!

"Maybe life wasn't easier for women,"
Massey admitted, eying the hoopskirts,
"I can't imagine them really liking to be
wrapped up in all those clumsy clothes.
But for a man, the era was sartorially
ideal."

Wha-at! With those awful, ill-fitting
coats and pants, those heavy boots, and
that superfluity of whiskerage! Aw! Men
today —

"Exactly," Massey said, "men today rush
to the barber all the time for a neat hair-
cut. Those days, they cut their own. To-
day they spend heaven knows how many
hours a year and how many years in a
lifetime, just shaving. They worry about
ties harmonizing with shirts. But if they
had those full, fine beards they needn't
wear ties at all. Their good suit is always
at the cleaner's. They can't get by with

one pair of shoes, because what would
they dance in? Lincoln, very sensibly,
danced in the shoes he had on."

The actor ran a hand thoughtfully
over his unruly dark mane which is
always flopping this way and that.
"Lincoln never looked as though he
combed his hair, either," he murmured,
smiling.

That is only one of the many incredible
similarities between Lincoln and Massey.
Back in the year 1629, the first Massey
came to Salem, Mass., and eight years
afterward came the first Lincoln. Oddly,
descendants of each family moved from
Massachusetts to Illinois. Eventually,
Massey 's people went to Canada (his
mother was an American) . Like Lincoln,
Massey was a salesman, a captain in the
army (with the Canadian artillery in
France) .

Lincoln's married life was out of the
ordinary. And Massey's has been out of
the ordinary, though in a different way.

Lincoln failed to show up on the day
first set for his wedding with Mary Todd.
"I believe perhaps he felt this course was
kindest to both of them," Massey ex-
plained; "Mary was a dominating char-
acter. If Ann Rutledge had not died and

if Lincoln had married her, I think he
would never have been President; he
would have been a quiet country lawyer
with a great gift of phrase, a keen appre-
ciation for the meaning and beauty of
words.

"Many give Mary Todd credit for mak-
ing Lincoln President. I don't think she
did it. He knew what he was doing, with-
out her to tell him. With circumstances
arranged exactly as they were, he'd have
been President whether he'd married
Mary or not. But I think he would never
have been surrounded by those circum-
stances if he had married Ann."

As a matter of fact, the date for Lin-
coln's wedding with Mary was set three
or four times by her relatives, and each
time the plans fell through. Then Mary
and Abe began to meet by themselves and
—left unhampered by the advice or
criticism of others — set a date and were
married — almost a year after the date first
fixed. It was a different courtship, any-
way.

But it was no more different, though
apparently much less romantic, than
Massey's recent marriage. For some years
he had been married to Adrianne Allen,
an actress of the London and New York
stages. Last spring they were divorced.
Massey married the former Mrs. Dorothy
Ludington Whitney, of New York society.
His former wife married William Dwight
Whitney, Dorothy Whitney's former hus-
band.

■ Speaking (and who can help it?) of
the uncanny physical likeness be-
tween Massey and the man he portrays—
they found near Eugene, Ore., a little lady
92 years old, spry as a cricket, who re-
membered how she used to see young
attorney Lincoln ride up to her father's
gate on a yellow horse named "Claybank."
Grandma Nancy Kerr Kester was the
daughter of Abraham Kerr, who had
played with Abraham Lincoln during
their boyhood in Kentucky.

Grandma Kester said Lincoln "cottoned
to her" because she was the smallest of
the family, and would "trotty-horse" her
on his knees for hours.

The little old lady, a pioneer herself in
covered wagon days in Oregon, was a
bright spot in Raymond Massey's stay at
the Oregon location. He learned many
new things about Lincoln from her, picked
up many little Lincoln ways and manner-
isms which he hadn't known about before.
Once, inspired by some anecdote, he went
out to split rails.

"Pioneer, hey?" some member of the
company scoffed. "Bet you'd rather be on
a tennis court." But the scoffer was
wrong; Massey loved splitting rails . . .
within reason.

Above his other resemblances to Lin-
coln, however, Massey has one likeness
which is all-important. He wants to be
an individual, not a resemblance. He
wants to be himself. That's why, just
because he looks so much like Lincoln,
he has made up his mind not to play him
any more when this current cycle is done.
Just so he won't be typed, he wants to play
in an hilarious musical comedy!

**Rest Cure" For
Bette

[Continued from page 34]

get into such a condition again."

"I hate to rub it in, but your exact
words, if I remember correctly, were, 'No
work of any kind — whether it is at the
Warner Studios in Burbank — or a factory
in Allentown, is worth risking your health
for — it's an empty glory being the richest
actress in the grave!' "

Bette blew a smoke ring in my direction.
"Remind me never to tell you anything I
ever want you to forget! Seriously though,
I deserve to have you rub it in, because
I'm just as stupid as a child who plays
with fire once and gets burned, and then
does it all over again. I knew I was com-
pletely done in, after making Jezebel, The
Sisters, Dark Victory, Juarez and The Old
Maid in rapid succession, with no breath-
ing space in between. And yet, I took on
The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex,"

"Why?"

"Because I just can't resist a good part.
So what happened? I burst several blood
vessels in the process of trying to pitch
my voice several tones lower, to affect the
robust woman that 'Lizzie' was. And I
lost pounds, buried under the weight of
the costumes and heavy jewelry."

"What you need is an orgy of rest and
relaxation — as far away from Hollywood
as you can get," was my parting thrust
as I left her in the fading sunlight.

■ The curtain will now be lowered four
times, to denote the lapse of a month.
Like a lap -dissolve in a movie, the scene
fades into a small New England cottage in
Dennis on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. In
the driveway is parked a station wagon
with a California license. Someone
emerges from the doorway and climbs into
the driver's seat. She is wearing shorts,
sandals. Her yellow hair is flying. Her
smile is vivid, care-free. Her blue eyes
are as clear as nearby Lake Scargo, and
her whole body radiates healthy vitality.
I stare incredulously.

"Pardon me, are you really Bette
Davis?" a timid young thing with an auto-
graph book in her hand asks my unspoken
thought. Bette signs obligingly, and then
turns to me with a gleeful chuckle.

"You see, I took your advice and got
as far away from Hollywood as I could.
And what did I find? New faces like
Glenda Farrell, Sally Eilers, Doug Mont-
gomery and Don Terry, all straight from
Hollywood! They're playing here at the
Cape Playhouse in summer stock. Hop in
and I'll drive you over to the theatre."

It was less than a five minute ride, but
within that short space of time Bette's
conversation was like a non-stop excla-
mation point.

"... And I put my station wagon
on the Chief . . . and Peggy Ogden met
me at Cornwall. We started acting at
Dennis together . . . and Raymond Moore,
he gave me my first job here — offered me
his guest house . . . and I've always wanted
to come back . . . and I haven't read a
Hollywood column . . . and I've never

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been more relaxed or felt better . . . and
I've eaten lobsters and clams until they
came out of my ears . . . and I've bought
cut all the antique shops for baby furni-
ture for my sister's new heir . . . and I
drove to Provincetown and saw a play that
I'm crazy about . . . it's called The Woman
Brown . . . and I wired Warner Bros, and
they've bought it for me . . . and this place
has changed since I was here ten years
ago . . . and, oh, but it's fun to be back!"

Backstage and up a narrow flight of
stairs to the third dressing room from the
end, Bette led me.

"This was my very first dressing room
in the theatre, when I played with Laura
Hope Crews in Mr. Pirn Passes By," she
pointed with the pride of a mother exhib-
iting her first born. "And I shared it with
Spring Byington. Bob Montgomery was
on one side and Lloyd Nolan on the other.

We were a permanent company, with an
occasional guest star.

"Being back here — seeing all this, do
you wish that it was just beginning again
for you?"

"Not by a long shot!" was Bette's explo-
sive retort. "And don't let anyone ever
kid you that they feel any differently.
Going back into the past is just glamorous
in the imagination. Successful actors like
to say that they were much happier when
they were starving in some cheap rooming
house, than they are now, when their
income taxes make them cut down on
caviar and champagne. It's good copy,
but no more to be taken seriously than
the sentimentalist who cries, 'Give me
back the good old days!' What good old
days? Before radio? Electric light?
Telephone? Talking pictures? Television?
Before there was a serum for pneumonia?

Before the Yankee Clipper and the Super-
Chief? Before Helen Hayes?

"Coming back to Dennis was not a
sentimental journey for me. I wasn't
trying to recapture my early youth. I
happen to adore the New England coun-
tryside— and I'm not being prejudiced be-
cause I'm a native New Englander. Most
Americans ignore their own country.
They'll travel days to see Amalfi Drive,
the Cote d'Azur and the Scottish Lakes —
when right in their own front yard they
have Cape Cod, the Berkshires, New
Hampshire, the Maine woods — scenery
that is so breath-takingly beautiful, it al-
most hurts. I found the most divine spot
at the foot of Sugar Hill, in Franconia,
and I'm going to build a tiny rustic cabin
on it, so that I can come to it on all my
holidays.

"I know it's a terrific cliche to say that
being in Hollywood for any length of time
gets one into an awful rut, but unfor-
tunately, it's true. It's like living on the
Isle of Marken, in Holland, where every-
one is related! We live in a private world
of our own, with a large fence around it.
International problems of the outside
world pale into insignificance, compared to
questions like "Will Cary Grant marry
Phyllis Brooks?" or "Who has the most
'oomph'?" It is to get away from this
insular way of living — to find a new men-
tal stimulus, that most players feel the
necessity of coming East once in a while.
In the past, I've always made the mistake
of coming directly to New York and
tearing madly around, trying to see every-
thing and everyone in a limited space of
time. Consequently, when my 'vacation'
was over, I found myself badly in need of
another!

"This trip has been gloriously different.
For the first time, I can honestly say that
I'd be perfectly content not to work again
for a whole year. As a matter of fact, I've
already said it to Warner Bros."

"And what was the answer?"

"Well, I'm under suspension again — this
time I'm fighting against making so many
pictures each year. During the past year
it was almost a game to find a theatre in
which a Bette Davis picftire was not play-
ing! The result was that I reached the
point where I was getting bored with
thinking, breathing and eating pictures,
and that's the danger signal for any act-
ress! I'm trying to drive home this fact to
the studio."

■ The curtain is lowered four times
again to indicate the passing of a long
lovely autumn, in which Bette ate New
Hampshire farm cooking, swam in the
ocean, caught mackerel with seventy-
year-old Mr. Peckett, and went to the
county fair.

By October, Bette was more enthusiastic
than ever about the play, The Woman
Brown, waiting for her in Hollywood. By
November the rest cure was completed
and she was back at the studio. By the
time you read this, filming of her next
picture, Rachel Fields' story, All This and
Heaven, Too, will be under way. And by
spring, Bette may have plans for her New
England house complete, so that a "rest
cure" will always be ready.

Girl Without a Country ?

[Continued jrom page 21]

achievements on ice rather than her pre-
sent success on the screen.

As a World's Champion skater, Sonja
was the idol of Oslo.

As a motion picture actress, she has
become merely a name on a theatre
marquee, a shadow of the vital, colorful,
whirling wonder of the ice rinks they had
worshipped in person.

Not many years ago when she was
keeping silversmiths busy making prizes
enough for her to win as a skater, Sonja
ranked with Ibsen, the playwright, and
Amundsen, the explorer, among Norway's
immortals. They hadn't put up a statue to
her or named a street after her, but they
were getting around to it. Sonja Henie
could have won a poll as the nation's
most popular woman with enough votes
left over to seat her in parliament.

Today they speak of Sonja Henie in the
past tense in the cafes of Oslo. It's what
she did eight years ago when she won her
second Olympic title, or her triumph six
years ago when she won World's Champ-
ionship honors for the tenth time. Her
most recent appearance on the screen is
discussed for a moment or two, but her
last performance at an Oslo ice carnival
rates an hour's reminiscence.

I sought an explanation of Oslo's sur-
prising attitude toward the girl who is an
enthusiastically acclaimed film favorite to

the rest of the world. A blond young
newspaperman, about Sonja's age, who
had known the star since she was a school
girl, gave it to me.

"To understand why we unconsciously
refer to Sonja in the past tense," he
answered, "you have to appreciate the
Norwegian's almost fanatical enthusiasm
for sports. To the average man or woman
in Norway, the World's Champion skiier
or skater is much more an important per-
sonage than the most famous actor.

"Sonja, as a World's Champion skater,
brought glory to Norway, in the opinion of
this sports loving public. Year after year,
from the time she was a little girl of ten,
she won one honor after another, one title
after another.

"As a skater, Sonja stood absolutely
alone. As an actress she is one of many
in a field that to others may appear
glamorous but to Norwegians cannot com-
pare in glamour with sports.

"And there were some of these sports
minded folk, proud of Norway's su-
premacy on the ice through Sonja's
prowess, who felt she let them down by
turning professional and seeking to earn
a more substantial return from her skates
than cups and silverware.

"Personally, I admire the way Sonja has
cashed in on her fame and multiplied her
figures of eight on the ring at the teller's

window of her bank. After all a lady
must live!

"And, of all the athletes who have ever
turned professional, Sonja has proved to
be one of the shrewdest in her financial
dealings."

| I recalled the journalist's comments
about Sonja's absorption with money
matters, the day I journeyed out to the
star's country home at Landoen, over-
looking the beautiful Oslo fjord about
twenty miles from the capital.

Ex-King Zog of Albania had arrived
that morning in Oslo en route to Paris.
He had come the long way around from
his lost kingdom, fleeing the Italians by
way of Roumania and Poland to Sweden
and thence to Norway from where he
planned to sail for Antwerp and his final
refuge of Paris.

The Norwegian papers had been full of
his doings, of his retinue of twenty body-
guards, his four pretty sisters, and his
lovely American-born Queen Geraldine
and their new baby. Zog still carried with
him, the press reported, his crown, which
he was lugging around in a suitcase with
a broken strap, and a fortune of some
$7,000,000 in gold in a battered old trunk.

Sonja could not get over that $7,000,000
being transported from country to country
so casually.

"You'd think he would have gone di-
rectly to London or Paris and put that
money in a bank, instead of junketing all

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postulated.

Sonja has a healthy respect for money.
Talk to her about her pictures and she
knows what each has grossed, its cost and
its net profit.

I But for all her shrewdness in money
matters, Sonja has a streak of gen-
erosity as wide as the Oslo fjord. Her gift
of a trip to Europe last summer to Belle
Richard, pert, redheaded member of her
skating troupe, is a sample of her largess.

Belle, who has skated in the Henie ice
shows for the past two years and also
worked in several of the star's pictures,
volunteered last winter to help Sonja
polish off the final rough edges of her ac-
cent. Between camera set-ups at the
studio and on train trips on tour, the
extra girl and the star read aloud to-
gether, with Belle prompting Sonja on
syllables that still were stumbling blocks.

Sonja took a fancy to the bit player and
claimed more and more of her time.
Nothing was said about remuneration.
The redhead skater wished none.

And then last spring when Sonja began
talking of her plans for her usual summer
trip to Oslo, she invited Belle to accom-
pany her. A week in London, ten days
in Paris and Cannes and a long summer
on the Oslo fjord were Belle's reward.

| They had just come back to Landoen
from the land of the midnight sun, the
day I called. Sonja, her mother, and her
slim, fair haired older brother, Lief, and
Belle had flown to Hammerfest, on the
northern tip of Norway, above the Arctic
Circle. Their pilot was Halvor Bjorneby,
famous Norwegian aviator, and Sonja,
who prefers travel by air over any other
means, was full of the scenic wonders of
her native land as viewed from the clouds.

The party had spent six days at the
North Cape, fishing for salmon and trout,
and Sonja had distinguished herself in
still another sport by a record catch.

It was Lief who told me of his sister's
prowess with the rod. "She would have
been a champion at anything she under-
took," said Lief. "The first summer she
ever played tennis, I persuaded her to
enter the Norwegian national tournament
and she reached the finals. A little more
practice, and she could have easily won
the next year and then gone on to further
triumphs in international play.

"But she gave up tennis, deciding that
you can excel in only one sport."

Lief himself belies that statement,
though, having won prizes in half a dozen
different activities in Norway; skiing,
speed skating, tennis, shooting and speed-
boat driving.

Even the dogs in the Henie menage are
champions, both of the two airedales, Titus

Funnyman Jack Benny does not take any time off at home. Here he is providing
laughs for his five year old daughter, Joan, with Buck Benny Rides Again antics

and Hannibal, having won blue ribbons at
Oslo dog shows.

The dogs' blue ribbons have their own
place in the big trophy room that Sonja
has built in her country house at Landoen.
There are the cups and medals her father,
Wilhelm Henie, won when he was national
bicycle champion of Norway, the various
prizes won by Lief and literally thousands
of prizes captured by Sonja in her long
years of competition, from her first prize
of a little copper medal, won in a foot race
when she was eight years old, to the giant
silver trophies emblematic of Olympic
Games triumphs. Sonja has the awe in-
spiring collection insured for $100,000.

■ She was just putting the finishing
touches on this trophy room when I
visited Landoen, for, on her return to
Norway last summer, Sonja had com-
pletely redecorated the whole house, in a
lavishly modem mode that someday will
be labelled by decorators as "1939 Holly-
wood."

Peach colored satin lined the walls of
Sonja's bedroom, which was filled with
silk covered furniture designed by some
unnamed Chippendale on the Twentieth
Century-Fox lot. The mirrored dress-
ing room was from Sonja's studio bung-
alow. Pigskin sofas .and chairs were
scattered around the cream colored living
room. The dining room was dominated
by a mural of Sonja, as the spirit of the
cinema, leading a parade of figures famous

Janet Gaynor looks very small and very

stately in a costume gown of black velvet,

Adrian of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

in the theatre and sports world. It was
all as lavish and costly and about as
livable looking as the powder room in an
Earl Carrol enterprise.

■ This little corner of Hollywood
Boulevard on the Oslo fjord will be
Sonja's one remaining root in Norway.
Following the death of their father, two
years ago, Sonja and Lief decided to give
up the big, gray stoned house in Oslo
this summer. They have also disposed
of the large fur and dress business of
Wilhelm's which was one of the flourish-
ing stores of Prinsensgate, one of the
town's chief business streets. All the
Henie business interests were moved to
New York this year, where Lief plans,
on the completion of Sonja's current ice
carnival tour, to open an agency for ski
and skating costumes.

It may be that word of Sonja's plans to
uproot her sizeable holdings in Norway
had something to do with the unfriendly
attitude toward her I encountered last
summer in Oslo.

But, if at the moment she seems to be a
girl without a country, shrewd little Sonja
Henie has taken steps to insure that that
dubious position will not last long. She
has taken out her first papers for citizen-
ship in the United States.

Her old friends in Norway think she has
become "too Americanized?"

"Okay," is Sonja's answer. She is going
all the way and become ... an American!

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The Grapes of Wrath

[Continued from page 23]

interests and politicians waxed vociferous
in their denunciations of this John Stein-
beck story about the dust bowl refugees
in California. No one, said Hollywood's
soothsayers, would dare film it.

And, most likely, no one would but
Darryl Zanuck, production chief at 20th
Century-Fox. Thanks to his courage, not
a punch has been pulled to retain the
novel's earthy realism. Just to show you
how close Nunnally Johnson worked with
the book in preparing the script, out of 700
lines of dialogue used, 650 lines were lifted
word for word from the novel! "The other
50," Johnson said, "were necessitated
solely for transitions. Mr. Zanuck told me
to follow Steinbeck word for word so far
as possible and that's what's been done."

■ So loud were the clamors of the
Hollywood pro-and-conners on the
advisibility of filming the novel that, when
the day arrived for the cameras to roll,
who should step into the making of it but
the United States government! Uncle Sam,
it seemed, was mighty definite about pro-
tecting his honor during the shooting. He
was mighty anxious that his camps for the
Okies be represented on the screen
accurately. And just to be sure about it,
the Farm Security Administration loaned
Thomas Collins, manager of all the Okie
camps, to serve as technical adivsor. And
we're here to tell you he was right on the
job. We recall one morning while we
worked that he stopped all production
because (1) the garbage cans around the
movie U. S. camps didn't have lids. Collins
said the government never would permit
such an awful situation to exist. (2) The
prop men had put wash tubs in front of
the Okie tents. "The idea!" snorted Mr.
Collins. "The U. S. provides a model
building where the Okies may wash their
clothes to their hearts' content." (3)
There was a slow sign at the entrance to
the camp. Mr. Collins said the Okies
didn't believe in signs. No U. S. camp ever
has them. The government instead digs
a shallow trench all the way across the
gate. That slows the Okie jalopies down
to a walk. These changes, the government
man insisted, had to be made or else. They
were made, along with countless others as
the filming progressed.

It was Collins, incidentally, who did
considerable research for Steinbeck dur-
ing the author's preliminary work on the
novel. In appreciation Steinbeck dedi-
cated the book to him.

"The Okies are going to come to life on
the screen exactly as they are," Collins
said. "The camps of the migratory
workers, their clothes and their speech,
their ways of living and above all, their
indomitable courage will be accurately
portrayed. After you have worked and
lived with the typical migrant, as I have
these many years, you are astounded at
his independence. The real migratory
worker abhors relief. He wants to pay
his own way. He is not a loafer. I have
known many sick ones who have refused
aid from the county medical authorities

because they could not pay for it. I re-
member a woman who was badly in need
of surgery. She told me, 'I ain't had no
charity and I ain't gonna to start now. I
know a doctor back in Oklahoma. He'll
trust me. He'll saw me open and sew me
up. The ol' man can pay him gradual
like.'

"Our camps have well-planned and
well-lighted streets. We have our own
sewerage and water plants, and our own
fire, health, education, sanitation and
police departments, all made up of the
migratory workers themselves who co-
operate with a resident manager from the
Farm Security Administration. He is the
only one who gets a salary. The workers
themselves donate their time and keep the
settlements in order. The government
charges the workers 10 cents a day. The
money goes into a fund to take care of the
destitute ones. If any family doesn't have
the dime, they can work out the charge
about the camp. We have virtually no
disciplinary problem. These people are as
law abiding as any Americans. They are
a 1939 model of the pioneers of '49 except
that today there is no wilderness for them
to conquer and no place for them to settle.
That is the tragedy. The 200,000 who
follow the harvests in California are only
a fraction of the total. We estimate that
five million men, women, and children lost
their lands in Oklahoma, Arkansas. Kan-
sas, South Dakota and Texas partly be-
cause nature swept the soil from them
and partly because of other economic
factors. It's a picture of their problem
that 20th Century-Fox is bringing to the
screen in Grapes of Wrath. It's not propa-
ganda. It argues for no course. It's drama
that has been lifted from real life."

■ Before I tell you about what hap-
pened to me on the first day I worked,

I want to tell you about John Carradine.
John portrays the role of the preacher
and, of course, he's as dirty as the rest of
the Okies. Maybe dirtier. At any rate,
the first morning I worked, the cops
on Pico Boulevard pinched John for
vagrancy and hauled him away to the
hoosegow! Seems John's car ran out of
gas on the way to work, so he flagged
down a car, meaning to ask the driver to
be good enough to stop at the first gas
station and send back some fuel. The
coppers might have let him go, but when
he pointed out the big Dusenberg he
drives and said that it was his, they just
boosted him in the squad car, and away
they went hell-for-leather to head-
quarters. After much wild talking at the
station John finally remembered his
Screen Guild card and produced it for
identification. The police were impressed
but not convinced until they escorted him
to the studio gates where he was recog-
nized and released.

■ I'll never forget that first day. Lady,
you couldn't see me for dust! And I

DO mean dust! Believe me, I know, now,
what those Okies really went through

when their little farms began to take to
the air with the greatest of ease. Why
they didn't die, all of them, after going
through such a dust storm is more than I
can explain. Henry King, my Okie friend
from Weedpatch, said the studio storm
was plenty bad, but nothing to compare
with what he and his family went through
many, many times back there in Okla-
homa.

Well, anyway, it was clear and sun-
shiny when they led us out to the backlot
to begin our chores. And fifteen minutes
later you couldn't have seen your hand
around your sweetie's waist. To blot out
the sun and leave a four-inch layer of
dust over everything on the set (and it
was a whopper!) the technicians used
around 4,000 tons of earth, and kept it
moving hither and yon by a battery of
30 wind machines! The danged stuff
made mudballs in your nose, stuffed up
your ears, settled in your eyes, and
saturated your clothes (such as they
were) until you felt like keeling over and
saying t'hell with it all. Ever so often
the machines would stop so Director Ford
could cough up a couple of pounds of
dirt along with instructions on how the
sequence should be done. While he was
talking to Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) and
Rosasharn (Dorris Bowden) who were
supposed to take the brunt of the storm,
doctors and nurses would scurry around
and "de-dust" us extras by swabbing out
our noses and throats. We keep this up

until late in the afternoon. We keep it up
all the next day and the next.

H I had one easy day and that was when
I rode on Highway 66 in one of those
Okie jalopies.

According to Eddie Jones, a pleasant-
faced young man in charge of the props,
the studio bought 140 ancient hacks at
prices ranging anywhere from fifty bucks
up to as high as eight-five. Most of them
dated as far back as 1920. After they were
trucked into the studio, mechanics went
to work, and finally got them in running
order so they wouldn't stall and hold up
production. The mechanics wanted to
install new motors, but Director Ford
nixed the idea because he wanted the old
ones to cough and sputter for the sound
track. When you hear them in the picture
you'll agree that the director got what
he wanted.

Well, we went groaning and grunting,
jostling and bumping along 66 with the
jalopies creaking and coughing. It
sounded awful. But it was fairly easy
riding. Once in a while one of our Dust
Bowl limousines gave up the ghost and
we halted while a truck of mechanics
gave the ancient motor a shot in the piston
and the old jalopy got to its knees and
went coughing and spitting along again.
The only person who really suffered was
Eddie Jones. Every once in a while you'd
hear him holler, "Be careful! Hey, you,
easy on that baby!" Toward the end of

the day Director Ford lined up the
jalopy army across a patch of what is
supposed to be the Dust Bowl. Henry
Fonda jumped down from his bouncing
barnacle that's loaded with everything
from chickens to bed springs. He started
roping a mattress that was sliding off and
the director started the shooting. Hank
was in the midst of his dialogue when the
left fender, without any urging from any-
body, suddenly cracked away, a clean
cut, and fell to the ground, bringing a
wild -eyed Fonda with it.

This Eddie Jones character threw a fit,
and filled the air with some choice mule-
skinner talk. "That blankety-blank so-
and-so of a car won't stay together!" He
fianally calmed down when Director Ford
told him not to bother about repairs.

"It'll take too long," the director said.
"We'll just move around to the fender on
the other side. It's one down and three
to go."

■ My next bit of high-class Okieing was
done on a studio backlot where some
sequences were shot in an Okie shanty
town — 27 dilapidated shacks and torn tents
all transplanted from the San Joaquin Val-
ley near Bakersfield. Not only did the
studio transplant the shacks, but also
the ancient cracked wood stoves, broken
lamps, battered pots and pans, rusty
beds, torn shirts, faded dresses, billboard
advertisements (the latter three items used
for stuffing windows), and even the trash!

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By China Clipper and transcontinental plane came this picture of Andrea Leeds on
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hula is famous Tootsie Notley who serves pineapple juice to all visitors to her island

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the town exactly as it was before the
movers uprooted it. They charted every
detail, including holes in the road and
piles of tin cans. When the planting was
completed, it covered ten acres on the
backlot. One junk heap, however, had to
be built up at home. This pile consists of
more than 10,000 tin cans and it took eight
trucks two weeks of raiding Los Angeles
dump heaps before this number was col-
lected. After sorting the tin cans out of
the refuse, they were put through a
chemical dip to guard against any disease
that flies might carry, and then were
stacked to a height of 30 feet at one edge
of the shanty town.

■ You might be interested in knowing
that Henry Fonda prepared for his
part by living in Okie camps for several
days at Bakersfield and Kernville. He
dressed like the Okies do, ate their food,
played their games, slept on an Okie bed
at night. All this so he could get the
necessary experience for his role of Tom
Joad.

The only guy who had a "cushy" job
during these shanty-town shots was Eddie
Quillan who enacts the role of Connie.
Two make-up men worked over the soles
of his shoes at least a dozen times a day.
They had to be kept just right — not too
dirty and not too clean. When the make-
up men weren't busy on the shoes, Eddie
was stretched out on a cot dozing and
getting paid handsomely for it!

Nothing like that for me, though. I'm
here to tell you I earned my pay. My
last day in the picture was spent picking
cotton, and while those little white and
puffy bolls don't weigh more than a baby's
breath early in the morning, they can get
as heavy as lead come the end of the day.
Around five o'clock, every time I'd pluck

one I could feel six vertebrae in my back
crack from the strain. As a matter of
truth I couldn't straighten up when quit-
ting whistle blew that day.

I was mighty sorry I couldn't be used
for another week because I wanted to see
how the picture came out. The film story
of these Okies is something you're never
going to forget once you see it. I wish I
had the space to devote a couple of pages
each to the splendid performances of the
whole cast. If Jane Darwell doesn't win
an Academy Award for her interpreta-
tion of Ma, I'll eat ten feet of celluloid and
call for more. She's that good. The same
goes for Henry Fonda. Well, why be
stingy. I'm willing to include the whole
cast as candidates for those cherished
"Oscars."

About the ending.

Director Ford required each worker
and player on the set to take a pledge of
secrecy when he began filming the final
sequences. Up until he was ready the
last few pages of the script had been kept
under lock and key. When he got ready
to photograph the ending, he read the
actors the lines and they memorized them
on the spot. The mimeographed pages
were not passed around, as is usual. The
scenes, too, were divided into many
"takes" so that neither the players nor
the workers would know exactly how they
fitted into the finish of the story. I can
reveal this, however. It won't be the end-
ing you read in the book. But they say
it's almost as sensational. It's one that
Steinbeck first considered and later dis-
carded for his book.

Well, that's that. As soon as I get that
crick out of my back from cotton picking
and a little water off my knee from being
slapped by the jalopy fender, I'll be
ready for another extra chore. New Year's
is coming and I got to store up a couple
of extra pieces of folding money if I'm
going to celebrate in the right way.

Hollywood Newsreel

[Continued from page 10]

"Send me the man who wears the green
necktie. He is little and pinched looking
with gray temples. I talked to him when
we were making Captain Blood.

Ordinarily this would not be easy to do.
Out of several thousand extras and bit
players, there may be hundreds who
answer such a general and indefinite
description. But the Warner casting office
is used to Mike by now — it keeps a list of
the people he interviews on every picture.
This makes the search simpler.

Recently, on the set of Four Wives, a
pleasant-faced woman, about 40 years old
was sent in to the set. Director Curtiz
was to decide if she would do for a bit
role there.

"No, dear lady," said Curtiz gently, "you
are not the one for this part. But I vill
put you in my type bank. Someday, maybe
in my next picture, Virginia City I vill
use you."

"What is a 'type bank'?" she asked.

"I read about gold banks, so I make a
type bank. In my memory I keep it. So
I put you in my memory. When I need a
pretty, plump lady, I send for you."

"But do you know my name?"

"Names mean nothing," Mike explained.
"I never use them. I ask for you by type
— 'Send me the plump, pretty lady who
came on the Four Wives set to see me.'

Somebody remembers and there you are.
You have a job."

■ Smart-cracking Roz Russell pulled
this one the other day. Asked by an

interviewer if she had any brothers or
sisters, Roz grinned and replied: "I have
three older brothers and three younger
sisters. I'm in between — the ham in the
sandwich."

■ Guess who Lew Ayres' heartbeat is
these days. None other than the

beautiful Helen Gilbert whom M-G-M
lifted out of her studio orchestra job for
stardom in pictures. Helen recently was
granted a divorce, and it's said that Lew
will ask for his legal papers freeing him
from Ginger Rogers

■ Errol Flynn has been bitten by the
buried treasure bug again. His past

few treasure-seeking exploits were
chalked off to experience on the red side
of the ledger, but he has been perusing
reports of a Canadian syndicate, working
on Oak Island off the coast of Nova Scotia.
The island is reputed to be the site of
Captain Kidd's buried plunder, and has
witnessed the sinking of many shafts. It
is estimated that $500,000 has been spent
in recovery efforts over a 150 yeaf period.

Treasure seekers in the past have found
traces of gold and old wood on their drills,
but water from an underground tunnel
rushed in to drown both shafts and hopes.
Flynn instructed his business manager to
determine whether he can buy into the
project, after hearing that the present
diggers had walled off the water.

■ "Doc" MacWilliams is a very inter-
esting character. He started his career
as a stunt man. Several years ago (15, to
be exact) he was seriously hurt in an
accident. So "Doc" resolved then and
there to give up stunting and devote his
time in trying to avoid accidents for other
players. For years, now, he's been telling
players what shoes to wear, how to avoid
falls, how to take them, and all the hun-
dred and one facts they need to know in
their dangerous profession. Doc's real
name is Paul. In all the long years since
he gave up stunt work he's never been in
a picture. Recently an interne was needed
for a scene in The Fighting 69th. The
temptation was just too much for him — so
he took the job. And, believe it or not,
after telling others how to keep fit for so
many years, he fell into debris made by
an exploding bomb in a battle sequence
and dislocated his right shoulder!

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Typhoon

[Continued from page 25]

This decision overloaded the Catalina
ferries and water taxis with assorted
American Indians, Hindus, Cingalese,
Burmese, Melanesians, Samoans,
Hawaiians and Filipinos shipped out for
inspection. Doc Winckel spent busy days
deciding whether they were the typhoon
type or the hurricane type.

Meanwhile, location scouts had staked
out a cove in the neighborhood of the
unfashionable Isthmus on Catalina, at a
point eight or ten miles away from swanky
Avalon. This was christened Toujours
L(') amour Beach and converted with
property-department wizardy into the
scene of a shipwreck, with a rotting hulk
piled up in the tidewater.

With brush and palette the Technicolor
guys went to work on the surrounding
rock promontories, converting them into a
fashionable seasick green. A schooner
was hired, a wonderful submarine was
whipped up, and the quality-folk — stars
and featured players — were imported
from the mainland by speedboat and
airplane.

Among these was Koko, the chimpanzee,
who gets fifth billing in Typhoon advertis-
ing, just under J. Carroll Naish and just
over the native chieftain. Koko is a
gentleman chimpanzee famous for his
female impersonations and is one of the
few Hollywood celebrities inactive in the
recurrent squabbles of the Screen Actors'
Guild. Frequently cast in love scenes
with Johnny Weissmuller, Koko is the
possessor of a finished petting technique
that makes him well worth his $500 a
week salary.

In a big emotional scene with Dorothy,
Koko got swept up in a tornado of animal
spirits, and nearly brought the whole
Typhoon enterprise to an untimely end.
Dorothy, wearing her lava-lava and a
determined expression, is required by the
script to unearth a case of hidden whiskey
and destroy it bottle by bottle so that her
lover, the partly-reformed lush, can't get
his tongue on it.

As Dorothy began busting the bottles
Koko began working up a frenzy. Whether
he was overcome by the thought of wast-
ing all that good liquor or merely un-
balanced by the electric wrath that per-
vaded the atmosphere will never be
known until Koko writes his memoirs.
But as the fifth bottle disintegrated in
shimmering shards he leaped toward
Dorothy, and, bringing up his powerful
fists from the instep, landed two terrific
kidney punches on the rear view of the
lava-lava.

Dorothy went down for the count but
rallied under the ministrations of the
company doctor and carried on through
the day throbbing with pain. Two huge

Technicolor welts marked the spots where
Koko's punches landed.

■ This was just a prelude to the ordeal
being stored up for the lava-lava girl.

Whether as a result of her bout with the
chimp or from the thick fog that settled
on the Isthmus at night, Miss Lamour
found on rising a couple of days later that
her neck was wrenched into the shape of
a corkscrew — in such a manner that no
matter how she stood her gaze traveled
over her shoulder.

It was in this shape that she finished a
full day's shooting. She topped it with
four hours' work the next day, and then
raced by motor and plane to Hollywood
to» do her regular Sunday night broadcast.
The instant the radio session was over she
raced back to Toujours L(') amour Beach
and bedded down to store up energy
against the next day's shooting.

■ With deliberate perverseness, the sun
played hookey for days on end at the

only spot on the island suitable for photo-
graphing. The strand three hundred
yards away would be flooded, with actinic
rays, but clouds hung about the painted
beach scene. During these enforced waits
some of the hardier members of the com-
pany swam in L(') amour Cove, but al-
ways under the watchful eyes of property
men armed with rifles who patrolled in
boats nearby.

The water appeared beautifully calm
and clear, a bit of landlocked ocean as
idyllic as a heavenly swimming pool. The
only trouble with it was that it filled with
sharks sometimes three layers deep.

"They won't bite," the knowing native
Catalinans shouted encouragingly from
the shore, but such sideline coaching bears
little reassurance when a fourteen-foot
sawtooth is coming at you half-speed with
a gleam in his eye that might mean either
admiration or just plain hunger.

The time-killing process was relieved
one dull day by the unscheduled arrival
in the cove of navy patrol plane, crippled
by motor trouble. It cracked up on an
offshore reef and began to disintegrate
before the eyes of the whole company.
Bob Preston, Lynne Overman (an old
navy guy himself, veteran of the North
Sea Patrol) and Louis King, plunged into
the shark- infested cove and hauled out
the pilot, Lieutenant Bryer of the cruiser
Nashville.

While the aviator was awaiting help,
he fraternized with the Typhoon mob and
got a quick-trick picture of movie life on
a South Sea Island. The yarns they told
him convinced him he was in the right
racket, safely aloft with no hazards except
death and dismemberment.

NEXT MONTH

Basil Rathbone
how to go abou
David Niven in

made

t it.

this

the mistake
The story is
issue. Kay

of declaring that spring c
hilarious and the pictures
Proctor tells you about it

eaning is easy,
are even funni
in the March

if you just know
er than those of
HOLLYWOOD.

How to be a Villain

[Continued from page 27]

the plane which would take him to New
York in time to catch the boat which
would take him to England from whence
he eventually would land somewhere on
the western front.

But dared I hope he would tell all? I
pressed on. He pondered that quite a
long time. Finally a great sigh escaped
his lips.

"In the interests of bigger and better
villainy, to which I have devoted the best
years of my life, yes!" he conceded gener-
ously. "I will tell all! I may be gone for
some time, and someone must carry on!"

And maybe, he pouted, some of the pro-
ducer chaps around the town would wake
up to what a great villain bet they had
been overlooking and mend their ways
when he returned. Speaking of producers,
he said, that reminded him —

"An important producer's cocktail party
is a wonderful place to spread a little
well-calculated villainy. You have him
and the other guests at such a divine dis-
advantage. First you lay the groundwork
of ordinary unpleasantness by spilling
drinks on the rosewood piano, leaving
lighted cigarettes on a priceless antique,
flicking ashes over the hors d'oeuvres, and
starting a good old-fashioned beer hall
brawl. That breaks down defenses and
you are ready for the kill. Then — "

Yes, yes. then —

"Then you really go to work," he said
simply. "Pretend you never have heard
of any of the big stars the particular pro-
ducer has under contract and to whom he
is paying fabulous salaries. Talk airily
about Norma Loy, Claudette Rogers, and
Cary Gable. Express tremendous interest
in the radio and predict a dazzling future
for television. Come right out in favor of
triple bills and bank night seven times a
week. Emphasize the importance of the
lost foreign market for pictures. Then,
just as you are ready to leave, prepare
the coup de grace."

And that is?

"Kidnap his No. 1 Yes Man and exit
shouting, 'No, No, NO!' "

"Not that!" I shuddered. "Anything
but that!"

"But you must," Davie gloated. "Pretty,
isn't it?"

Another perfect spot for pluperfect
villainy is the Literary Section of the
Dingleberry Women's Cultural Club to
which you have finagled an invitation to
speak on Poetry vs. Prose and Why. You
start things seething by mispronouncing
everyone's name, preferably in as ridicu-
lous a way as possible. McGurgle, for
instance, for McGonagle. Next, you de-
liberately address every woman .as Miss
So and So, making it a plain implication
you consider her such an old hen no man

ever would have thought of marrying her.
After that you inject the observation into
conversation, as often as possible, what
good sense Hollywood women show in
maintaining their figures and how simple
it is to do if one is willing to exercise a
little control over natural gluttony. You
speak of the advantage of restaurant food
over the home-cooked variety and com-
ment on the deplorable morass into which
women have permitted their God-given
minds to sink. One by one you stare at
the millinery creations atop the assembled
heads, alternately tittering or blinking in
horror.

"Having carefully followed this outline
in detail, you stride to the front of the
speaker's platform and stand perfectly
still until you have everyone's attention,"
Davie concluded. "Then you say in a clear
ringing voice: 'Ye gods, but you are a
dull lot! I'm going over to Sloppy Joe's
for a beer!' "

Do you go? I asked.

"I would advise it," Davie said. "Politely
asking the chairman to accompany you,
of course."

The obvious advantage of refined tor-
ture of that kind over the blood and
thunder tactics of the ordinary villain is
readily apparent, Davie insisted. Whereas
the pain of a slit throat is forgotten in a
day or two, so to speak, the agony of
the snide remark will tear at the soul for
weeks, sometimes months, on end. Pro-
longed suffering in the victim must be the
sole objective of the competent rake-hell.

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| Arch villainy on the golf course is
a comparatively simple procedure,
Davie continued. Why bother4 with such
childish rigamarole as potting the victim
with poisoned darts when it's so easy to
make him burst an important blood vessel
with a few well-chosen words?

"I call it the old One-Two-Three," he
explained. "First you casually accuse him
of cheating in the rough. Next you firmly
insist he cheats and threaten to withdraw
from any future association with him.
When his blood has reached the boiling
point you say, 'Forget it, old man, I was
only joking,' and poof! there goes a blood
vessel as neat as you please."

9 Or take a street car, Davie said.
Sooner or later you're bound to find
yourself riding one and it's just as well
to know the indicated procedure for male-
faction. Never pay your fare with any-
thing less than a $20 bill and argue loudly
with the conductor over the change he
gives you. Vehemently charge the motor-
man with reckless driving and make a
to-do about writing down his number and
asking for his name. Take a sketching
pad from your pocket and pretend to draw
the various passengers. (This, he ex-
plained, makes them so self-conscious
they ride blocks past their corners.) If
the car is extremely crowded, sidle up to
the plumpest bundle-burdened woman
hanging on a strap, glance adroitly toward
the hem of her skirt and whisper,
"Pardon me, Madame; could it be you are
losing something?"

"That's a killer-diller," Davie chortled.
"That's a daisy- waisy!"

Few men can steel themselves to per-
petrate the basest form of street car
villainy but Davie thought he might as
well mention it in passing. It is designed
for the woman with a small child. After
she has paid the half -fare for Junior and
is herding him down the aisle, you jump
to your feet and point an accusing finger
at her.

"Madame, you know that boy is more
than six!" you shout. "Aren't you
ashamed, a big woman like you cheating
the poor street car company! Fie and
double fie on you!"

B Now supposing you are at the
speakers' table at a big banquet and
want to get in a little dirty work. Two
short English words, how and why, are
your lethal weapons. With them you can
break up any speech on any subject under
the sun and reduce the speaker to a
quivering, jibbering candidate for the
nearest boobyhatch.

"I guarantee it," Davie said confidently.
"Let the speaker say, 'I am here to-
night . . . ' and you interrupt him by call-
ing out, 'Why?' If he says, 'I came here
tonight,' your cue is, 'How?' Perhaps he
may begin, 'It gives me great pleasure . . . '
In that case you use 'How.' Should he
start with 'My friends,' your cue once
again is, 'Why.' The possibilities, as you
can see, are unlimited."

H In case you want to get rid of your

wife, Davie said, there is no need to

get messy about it. So many men, un-

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fortunately, make that mistake and end
up on the wrong end of a hangman's rope.
The Niven System is much, much simpler
and boasts the particular advantage of
leaving you legally free to pursue the
toothsome delights of further villainy.

"Start by always keeping her waiting
anywhere from 15 minutes to half an
hour, depending on her temperament," he
explained. "Never, never tell her she
looks well or notice a new frock except to
complain bitterly about the ruinous bills
she is running up. Callously ignore all
her desperate attempts to arouse a spark
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expression which plainly says, 'Heavens,
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ladies and gentlemen.' When dancing,
deliberately trip her up and then murmur
an icy and perfunctory, 'Sorry, my fault.'
Eventually she will take an ax to her
brains, thus saving you no end of trouble.''

| Finally, Davie said, he would like to
leave instructions in the fine points of
villainy at a baby show. He had saved it
for the last because it was the choicest
field of endeavor. In fact, that was
how he won the proud title of Slaughter-
house Niven.

"It's so much fun because babies are
such dear little things," he said. "Well
I remember one afternoon when I reduced
six mothers to raving maniacs, sowed the
seeds for at least ten divorces, and won
the undying hatred of every pink-faced
little angel in the show. That, indeed,
was one of my greater triumphs and I
shall cherish the memory of it forever.

"I started in a modest way, as I remem-

ber, by scaring the wits out of every
exhibit under six months by pulling
frightful grimaces. From six months to
one year I pinched their beautiful little
posteriors with exquisite little nips. From
one year up I whispered horrible tales of
boogeymen in closets and the truth about
Santa Claus. In every case, I am proud to
say, I was an unqualified success.

"My crowning glory, however, was won
among the parents. I told every mother
what every other mother had said about
her baby. I pointedly refused to see any
likeness between any baby and its pro-
genitors but took especial pains to com-
ment on the striking resemblance between
Mrs. Brown's infant and Mrs. Green's
husband. I started a whispering cam-
paign about the judges being bought off in
advance and casually dropped the word
that the most popular pediatrician in
town really was a veterinarian who had
been run out of Council Bluffs, Iowa, for
dog poisoning. I started a rumor about a
well known baby food containing an
insidious drug which stunted growth and
induced absolute imbecility around the
age of 18. My last touch, however proved
the infinite limits of my magnificent
talents. I said every one of the little
darlings looked just like Shirley Temple
and promised Darryl Zanuck would give
them a screen test!"

3 Suddenly I felt two soft warm hands
on my throat and saw two laughing
black eyes staring down into my own.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear," he cooed.
"There's nothing personal in this but I
just now realized my research in villainy
is incomplete in one field. You under-
stand, I'm sure, that this is in the interests
of my career as a villain?"

Whereupon he throttled me to death.

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The Jlmeches'

Spaghetti

This is the way the young Ameehes look when they are hurrying home

for that special spaghetti which is the specialty of the star. You'll see him

next in the musical, Sivunee River

Ron Ameehe*s ancestry is Italian, so he knows
how to nut just the right touch on spaghetti

By BETTY CROCKER

■ Watch Don Ameche's
eyes sparkle when he
sits down to one of his
favorite dishes, and you'd
agree that the Ameche en-
thusiasm is not an act saved
for his screen and radio
appearances.

Especially if it's spaghetti!

In fact, Honore Ameche,
very wise young wife, sees
to it that always there is a
supply of spaghetti in the kitchen in case
Don has invited a half dozen friends
(without much warning) to dinner.

But Don himself supplied
the recipe, from the family
recipe brought from Italy.
And here it is, just as the
savory dish is prepared in
the kitchen of their com-
fortable Encino home.

SPAGHETTI A LA
AMECHE

2 tbsp. olive oil or butter
1 lb. ground meat (beef, or beef and
pork)
*One 6-oz. can tomato paste

*% cup water

2a/2 cups cooked tomatoes (one No. 2

can)
2 or 3 small cloves of garlic, finely cut
Few sprigs of parsley, finely cut
1 large bay leaf, finely cut
1 tsp. salt
% tsp. black pepper

1 lb. spaghetti

6 qts. boiling water

2 tbsp. salt

Parmesan cheese, if desired.

*If it is difficult to get tomato paste, use
an additional IV4 cups cooked tomatoes
in place of the tomato paste and the %
cup water.

Heat olive oil or butter in heavy frying
pan. Add the meat, and cook until
browned. Add tomato paste mixed with
water, cooked tomatoes, and seasonings.
Simmer slowly for % to 1 hour (long
cooking improves the flavor) . Cook
spaghetti until tender (15 to 20 minutes)
in boiling water to which the salt has
been added. Drain. Arrange hot spaghetti
on hot platter. Pour over it the hot sauce
made of browned meat, tomato and sea-
sonings. Sprinkle with grated Parmesan
cheese, if desired. Serve immediately.
This recipe makes 12 large servings.

B To go with this delicious dish, let's try
another Ameche favorite, Cinnamon
Puffs. You can whip them up in no time
at all, and here is his recipe:

CINNAMON PUFFS

5 tbsp. shortening (part butter for

flavor)
% cup sugar
1 egg

1% cups all-purpose flour
*2% tsp. baking powder (single action)
% tsp. salt
Vi tsp. nutmeg
Vz cup milk
Coating

6 tbsp. butter, melted
Sugar and cinnamon mixture (% cup
sugar and 1 tsp. cinnamon)
*If you use a double action baking
powder, follow rule given by manu-
facturer.
Cream shortening, add sugar gradually,

and cream until fluffy. Blend in egg yolk,
and mix well. Sift flour once before
measuring. Sift flour, baking powder, salt
and nutmeg together, and add to the
creamed mixture alternately with the
milk. Fold in the egg white which has
been beaten until stiff but not dry. Pour
into well greased muffin pan, filling each
cup Vz full. Bake 20 to 25 minutes in a
moderate oven, 350° F. When muffins
come from the oven, roll them immedi-
ately and very quickly in the melted
butter, then roll them in the sugar and
cinnamon mixture. Serve warm. This
recipe makes 1 dozen muffins.

ggl As with all Italians, sea food is
relished by Don. And since it is not
so difficult as it once was to get shrimp at
the corner butcher shop, we are including
the tried and tested Ameche recipe for:

RICE WITH SHRIMP SAUCE

2 tbsp. butter

2 tbsp. all-purpose flour

1 onion, chopped

2 cups fresh shrimp (or 2 No. 1 cans)
1 bay leaf crushed

3/4 tsp. pepper sauce

V2 tsp. salt

1 small can tomato paste

3 cups water

3 cups cooked rice

Melt butter, stir in flour and stir until
smooth. Add onion and let brown. Add
cleaned shrimp, seasonings, tomato paste
and water. Cook slowly until sauce
thickens. Serve over boiled or steamed
rice. TIME: Cook 45 to 60 minutes. This
makes 6 servings.

To Cook Rice— Chinese Method: Wash
1 cup rice and put in 2 qt. saucepan with
1 tbsp. salt and 2 cups cold water. Cover
closely and set over direct heat. Do not
lift cover until ready to serve. When
water boils hard, reduce heat to lowest
possible, and allow to steam very slowly
for half an hour.

H Doesn't it all sound good? But then,
Don Ameche makes even a simple
recipe sound exciting because everything
that has to do with living is given extra
zest by this energetic young man.

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Take a Personality Test with Ginger Rogers

[Continued from page 32]

a Garbo act — the reason for her great
success where other pretty, graceful
actresses fail — and many other sides of her
personality.

We are printing Ginger Rogers' answers,
on page 55. You will also find your per-
sonal analysis there.

Instructions for Scoring:

Count the number of YES answers
in each group. Where you have the
occasion to answer "sometimes" give
yourself a one-half YES. Where you
gave yourself seven or more YES answers
in any one group of questions, rate your-
self with the Letter heading that series of
questions.

For example, if you answered 11 YE3
on A, 3 YES on B, 9 YES on C, you're an
AC type. And so on. You can be either
of seven types: A, B, C, AB, AC, BC or
ABC.

TYPE A

1. Do you like to be alone for long
periods at a time and indulge in day-
dreams?

2. Have you three or more friends whom
you have taken completely in your
confidence?

3. Does it make you nervous to be shut
up in a small room?

4. When in a train or bus, are you more
interested in looking at the people
around you than in reading the paper?

5. Does it make you nervous to have to
wait in line?

6. Do more than three people consider
you "high strung"?

7. Are you actually thrifty?

8. Do you make careful preparations be-
fore beginning a task?

9. Do you like to play games where you
have to do silly things as a forfeit if
vou lose?

10.
11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

Do you enjoy quizzes?

When in trouble, do you prefer to
confide in someone rather than mull

it over in your own mind?

Do people who take games seriously

annoy you?

Do you look for the meanings of your

dreams?

When you've nothing special planned,
do you like rainy days as well as
sunny ones?

Are you curious to know what other

people think of you?

On a travel excursion, do you join
a group that will be shown the im-
portant sights by a guide rather than

do your own exploring? ■

When listening to a concert, are you
embarrassed when you can not name
the title or composer of the selection
being played, if asked?

TYPE B

1. At a party, do you prefer to be with
one person rather than a group?

2. When you went to school, did you
ever get into scrapes that caused your
suspension?

3. Does it make you uncomfortable to be
conspicuous?

4. Do you encourage receiving the confi-
dence of friends?

5. When you and your date arrive at a
party in evening clothes, and you dis-
cover that all the guests are in street
dress, do you stay, anyway?

If you fell while making a ski jump,
would you try that leap again im-
mediately?

Would you live in a small house in a
fashionable neighborhood rather than
in a roomy one "across the tracks"?

8. Are you better than average in more
than two sports?

9. Have you a hobby in which you are
actively interested? ■ ■

10. Do you like to join clubs or organiza-
tions and take an active interest in
them?

11. Eo you voluntarily attempt to act as
peacemaker when friends quarrel?

12. Do you feel a slight resentment when
people whom you first meet immed-
iately use your first name? —

13. Do you "doodle" when you telephone?

14. At a party, do you prefer talk to play-
ing cards?

15. Do you enjoy telling friends of your
experiences?

16. Dc you like to meet new people?

17. In school, were you frequently con-
sidered the leader of the group?

18. You are going home to your drab
apartment and you feel so blue you
could scream. Only $2.00 stands be-
tween you and paj'day. Would you
spend it on a gay fling in a good res-
taurant and theatre to cheer yourself

up.

TYPE C

When you are confronted with a prob-
lem or a game of skill, do you like to
figure it out for the sense of achieve-
ment it gives you?

Have you ever done anything danger-
ous for the thrill of it?

When someone is unpleasing to you,
are you apt to leave him alone rather
than give him a piece of your mind?

When someone says a thing is im-
possible, does that make you want to

do it?

If you were stranded two miles from
home without a cent, would you walk
rather than ask a passerby for car-
fare?

If you are seen with an obviously
seedy person by another acquaintance,
would you attempt to apologize or ex-
plain later?

7. You have been made director of the
little theatre play and your rival is
cast as leading lady (or leading man).
Would you let her (or his) per-
formance go with little attention,
while you concentrated on the other
members of the cast?

8. Do you force yourself to read books
that are supposed to be elevating, even
if you find them dull?

9. When the waiter serves you a dish
which is not prepared as you like it,
do you hesitate to ask him to change
it?

10. Would you join a fan club if you liked
an actor or actress very much?

11.

12.
13.

14.

When going out with a group of
people, are you the first to suggest

what to do and where to go?

Do you read best sellers?

At a party someone who considers
himself quite erudite recites an ob-
scure passage from Shakespeare in-
correctly. Would you correct him?

If someone mentioned a word you've
never heard before, would you ask for
the definition and spelling of that

word?

15. Do you read the front page of a paper
before the funnies or movie section?

16. If your club initiation required you
either to walk down the main street in
a bathing suit leading a goat, or wash

dishes for a week, would you choose
the latter?

H You've answered the questions, and
added up your score. But first, let's
see how Ginger Rogers answered hers:

Type A

Type B

Type C

1. Yes

2. No

3. No

Yes

3. Yes

4. No

5. Yes

Yes

5. Yes

6. No

Yes

6. No

7. Yes

7. No

8. Yes

Yes

8. No

9. No

Yes

9. No

10. No

10.

10. No

11. No

11.

Yes

11. No

12. No

12.

Yes

12. No

13. No

13.

Yes

13. No

14. Yes

14.

Yes

14. No

15. No

15.

Vz Yes

15. No

16. No

16.

V> Yes

16. Yes

17. No

17.

y2 Yes

18.

Yes

Ginger's score is: A-5; B-IIV2; C-4.
Therefore, Ginger Rogers is a B type.
Now let's see what her — and your—
personal analysis is:

TYPE A

■ You are a "castle builder," spinning

your dreams but doing little to make

them materialize. The fear of failure is

always before you, and makes you hesi-
tate to start ambitious undertakings. To
the world, you present a practical, efficient
exterior, and many of your acquaintances
do not know the sensitive, imaginative
personality beneath. Circumstances and
environment are the contributory factors
which make you hide behind a conven-
tional mask. If you would develop ex-
hibitionism and ego, your beauty-loving
and imaginative streak would not be
buried, but would be evident for all to
appreciate. You like to read of the fabu-
lous doings of great and famous people,
and you derive almost a personal satis-
faction from their achievements. You
would rather follow than lead, but the
person you follow must have high qualifi-
cations.

You are a person of discrimination and
have a feeling for fine detail. You are
affectionate, understanding and sensitive
to the needs of others. You assume re-
sponsibilities toward those whom you love,
and try to assume their worries if you
think it will relieve them. Sometimes,
your own needs and trials are pushed in
the background when the worries of a
loved one upset you. You can fight, but
you don't, except for the man or woman,
the friend or dependant close to you.

You are meticulous, honest, follow rules
and are above craft and design. Although
such iron-bound qualities make you in-
flexible in approach, don't look down on
them. Actually, you can always find

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S3
55

RIDE WITH

THROUGH WINTER
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PRINCIPAL GREYHOUND INFORMATION OFFICES

New York City, 245 W. 50th St.
Cleveland. O.. E. 9th & Superior
Philadelphia, Pa., Broad St. Sta.
Chicago, 111. . . 12th & Wabash

Washington, D. C

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at Grand River

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escape when things look oppressive, for
your mind has corners which are never
completely occupied by routine.

TYPE B

(Ginger Rogers Analysis — and
perhaps yours)

■ You are blessed with the faculty of
thinking in a straight line. You are
capable of understanding and sympathiz-
ing with the problem of others, but you
like to figure out your own problems, and
you feel an aversion toward letting others
in on your private worries. You have
little use for abstractions. You deplore
helplessness, wishy-washiness. Deep down
in your heart, however, there come many
moments when you yearn for a bit of
babying, but you fight against the urge
to cry on someone else's shoulder.

You don't spare yourself in your efforts
to get what you go after, and you like to
finish a thing as quickly as possible. You
like to attack several things at once, and
drive yourself hard. While this gives you
a zip and a verve which makes you plunge
straight ahead, you don't pause long
enough to enjoy the fruits of your energy.
You are apt to eat too fast.

You have a keen evaluation of people,
but are a nonconformist when selecting
your friends. You don't try to cultivate
those who may do you the most good, or
shun those who might tear you down.
This reveals an impractical side of your
personality, plus a strongly independent
and unconventional streak. If you are a
woman, you have the unhappy tendency
to demand the equal rights of man, and at
the same time to expect the special privi-
leges of a woman.

You are resentful of interference and
hate to have people tell you what to do and
what not to do. When you make mistakes
that are results of your own decisions, you
are a good sport about accepting the
losses. However, when those same conse-
quences follow because you took the ad-
vice of someone else, you're a poor loser.
You must be careful not to become child-
ish or "negativistic" — in other words,
deliberately doing the contrary of what
people suggest.

With strangers you are remote. You do
not accept outsiders instantly. You are
fearful of many people — even those whose
motives are above suspicion.

However, there is this to be said of
you: once you accept a friend, you stick
by him, and are capable of putting up a
terrific battle for him. You protect those
you care for. Because you like to pre-
tend you are not a sentimentalist, you try
to hide this with a flip manner which
fools many.

TYPE C

BS You have the knack of putting up with
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you. You are imaginative and ingenious.
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Such qualities make for success in work,
and in social activity — but for one im-
portant factor: you have an inclination to
tear off at tangents. You don't harness
your imagination or your energy. You
start many jobs and have to be driven to
finish one. You are unhappy in routine —
it stifles you, makes you feel that you are
getting nowhere. This results in an inabil-
ity to face facts or take orders. The flaws
and quirks in your personality make for
boundless charm, but you don't use it to
the fullest advantage. Basically imprac-
tical and impulsive, you jump into decis-
ions before you weigh them carefully.
You have not learned how to be a firm
opportunist, to make every acquaintance,
every experience, every contact help you
get what you want.

Your moods seldom pursue an even
course — either you own the world, or you
can be bought for a nickel. Most of the
time you can't explain the reason for this
feeling, and this leaves you all the more
unprepared to cope with it. You like
variety, change and excitement. You are
a respector of "important" people, but you
do not kowtow to them. You want so
many things, you are interested in so many
people and projects that your main prob-
lem is selection. But you are not easily
thwarted. Once you organize your per-
sonality, you have the cleverness to inter-
est others in your own purposes.

TYPE AB

B You are slightly over-fond of ap-
plause, aren't you. Don't be blind to
those who are too ready to cheer for you.
Remember to suspect everyone about once
a month, otherwise your naivete will trip
you up. Your confidence — coupled with
your belief that everyone is as honest and
outspoken as you — may make you see
opportunities that don't actually exist.
When disappointment sets in, you take it
hard. This only serves to whet your incli-
nation to take chances. But you are not
as good a gambler as you'd like to be.
When things go your way, you're a good
sport. When disappointments set in (and
they often do, because you expect too
much) you go to pieces.

You like orderliness and routine, but
will do without them rather than contend
with associates who are dominant. You
like to play Lady Bountiful or Prince
Benefactor. The fact that these roles bring
you a source of pleasure doesn't lessen
your sincerity. In fact, you are one of
these people of whom it is said, 'Your
heart rules your head." You get a sock
on the chin instead of thanks every once
in a while, and that makes you decide to
toughen up — but before long you are again
falling for someone's sob story. You must
also take care not to be timid or over-
cautious. It isn't that you are afraid, as
much as it is because you prefer security
to excitement — safety to glory. You work
better when someone is over you, and
sets a quota or a standard for you to aim
at. You lack the ruthlessness to accomp-
lish your aims regardless of consequence.
Look out that you are not stepped on by
less considerate people.

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WE WERE BOTH SINNERS

His family condemned her as a gold-digger,
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The same issue of this absorbing magazine
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Over 90 Million Bottles Sold

TYPE ABC

H You are the happiest of happy medi-
ums. An exceptionally reliable person,
you do what you think is right, and that
thought sustains you even if your plans
do not always work out. You have the
courage of your convictions, but stub-
bornness is not one of its accompanying
features. You can listen to another per-
son's side of the story, and change your
mind, if you are wrong.

You are a hard worker, and are capable
of sticking to a project endlessly, no mat-
ter how tedious it becomes. Your danger
is in becoming smug. Because things
generally run on an even keel for you,
with little ups and downs, you are apt to
view the frettings and fripperies of others
with some amusement. Worse yet, there
are many times when you like to give un-
solicited advice. When your advice is
rejected, you sulk.

You have a great personality safeguard:
you can sense falseness. Ycu are not
easily fooled. Because you don't possess
an over-abundance of conceit, and flat-
tery doesn't work its sinister charm on
you, you have the faculty of seeing
through people.

You would do well to develop your
imagination. You have such a sane ap-
proach to things that you are too inclined
to be matter-of-fact. These are success
qualities, but on the other hand, you are
often inclined to ignore your sense of
humor and place emphasis on unimportant
details. Do something very silly every
once in a while. Be impractical at least
once a month. If you're a girl, let out a
good scream when you see a mouse or a
Karloff picture. If you're a man, buy a
silly gadget.

TYPE AC

B At heart you are an exhibitionist.
Nothing would please you more than
to be the center of a group of people —
entertaining them, being noticed by them.
But you don't have the nerve to go through
with it. Actually, when it comes to the
"performance" test you fail. You suddenly
become tongue-tied, your hands turn to
limp rags, and you become nervous and
self-conscious when it's your turn to take
the floor. Then you choose the easier
way out and say to yourself, "Well — next
time. Tomorrow." The fact that you some-
times feel ashamed of yourself for not
having taken advantage of the opportunity
only makes this condition worse, because
then you indulge in self-censure.

I speak of this "exhibitionism" broadly.
It applies not only in social gatherings, but
in business, as well. It's only when a
gathering is broken up, and you're home
that you think of the clever things you
could have said. This is all due to an
inherent shyness which freezes you up
when you most need command of your-
self. Not many people suspect you of
possessing this timidity because you your-
self are constantly developing a defense
mechanism to hide it. As long as this
defense attitude is developed to build
your poise and self-confidence, you are
all right. But once you begin to become
morose about the situation and let the

sensitive side of your makeup rule you,
you are licked.

Try not to imagine that other people are
talking about you or laughing at you.
Develop an interest in others and you can
forget yourself. You are an interpretive
creator. Stick to your creative urge.
Don't let anyone discourage you. Tear
loose from your inhibitions. Then watch
yourself go!

TYPE BC

H If only you could rid yourself of your
inferiority complex, you would come
that much nearer to having a victorious
temperament. Certainly, there is no rea-
son for your defeatist attitude. You have
romanticism, ambition and a love of
people — a rare combination.

Your personality is flexible and you're
a dogged worker, but that is not enough.
You are licked before you start because
you constantly see failure before you. The
boys and girls who get to the top are those
who knew they were good and no one
could make them believe otherwise. That's
why they got there. Ann Sothern, for
instance, had such supreme confidence in
herself that in spite of mediocre success,
she wouldn't believe that she didn't have
within her the qualities of great acting.
Instead of resigning herself to unimport-
ant roles, she quit films for a year and
returned to be hailed a re-discovered
star. That took courage — and faith in her-
self! And that is the quality you're short
on. You "let down" very quickly.

If you're disappointed in love, you can
become very bitter and cynical, unless
you watch yourself. You are naturally a
social person. If you feel shy, you can
rid yourself of your inhibitions by making
new friends, and letting them feel the
sincerity and charm which you possess.
A person of your type has no reason for
failing in social relationships. If you do,
it's because of a negative attitude which
you must overcome by telling yourself
fifty times a day: "I'm wonderful!"

You are sensitive, artistic and capable
of infinite, quiet patience. You generally
accomplish what you have set your heart
on doing. In emergencies you generally
keep a level head.

CROSSWORD PUZZLE
SOLUTION

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A H A

D||M

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*Be U)ib&.\o\ ihe Distress of Colds. Take

Alka-Seltzer

Battling Star

[Continued from page 30]

Each Dawn I Die and Invisible Stripes.

The convict suit he wears in the Wanger
picture is the same one he wore in Each
Dawn I Die. His lifeblood, spilled out for
Jimmy Cagney and Jack Warner, is still
faintly visible on the bosom of the nifty
English drape model penitentiary swagger
suit, which fits George as snugly as all his
other clothes do. Even in Alcatraz and
San Quentin he's a fine figure of a cloth-
ing model.

The German grandfather, Johannes
Ranft, who introduced the merry-go-
round to this country, bequeathed none of
his giddiness to George, who is about as
blithe and impulsive as the Chase National
Bank. His ingrown passivity was never
better demonstrated than during the Raft-
Paramount War. During one of the major
offensives, George went A.W.O.L. from
the studio. The exact reason for the one-
man strike is lost to history but it had
its origin in a script that was not ac-
ceptable to the star.

"When I read that thing it got me,"
George confesses. "I cried like a baby.
The part they had written for me was so
bad that I got the weeps out of sympathy
for the guy that would have to play it.
You can be sure the guy wasn't me."

His agents worked themselves up to a
high emotional pitch and drew up a
scathing war communique which was de-
signed to set forth that their hero was
getting a royal kicking -around from the
studio. Reporters were called in and the
stage was set for a dramatic entrance by
George, who was supposed to recite the
lines the agents had cooked up.

"Whaddya gotta say about this?" the
reporters asked.

"Nothing," George replied, his pan as
dead as yesterday's newspaper.

fl Deep inside, the fellow is a caldron
of boiling impulses but by the time
they reach the surface they are pretty
well dissipated. Even when George is
going to smack you in the nose, he tells
you about it in a cool, impersonal way and
suggests maybe it would be better if you
just got out of the neighborhood.
That's the way it was the other night

k *

Pt6 Cjn&at fa*

the 1?e£ief o#
COLD SYMPTOMS

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fYOUHAVEl

I NO IDEA I

/J^

1 HOW MUCH!

I BETTER 1

\ 1 FEEL J

\ - A

si-i '. ' ' • im ■ I

Br'1 ""* vm

WllwJml „

at La Conga, where George was sitting
quietly at a table with Steffi Duna, the
film dancer, who was doubling as a floor-
show entertainer.

A patron at a neighborhood table made
some remarks George didn't like. George
went over to the chap and suggested that
he muffle his wise cracks. This happened
a couple of times. In the end, somewhat
wearily, George invited the guy out into
Vine Street and clipped him a couple of
times.

A minor tempest in California Cafe
Society resulted. He Who Got Slapped
Around threatened a damage suit. George
gladly paid him $1,000, remarking com-
placently, "It's worth a grand to know
your jab is still working."

That casual grand was twice as much as
George ever earned in a ring career that
lasted twenty-five bouts. He was a
bantamweight then, fast, shifty and will-
ing to take a punch to get one in. His
willingness to mix it cost him seven
knockouts and he shifted to baseball,
where the penalties for aggressiveness
were not so swift and rigorous. Two years
in the bush leagues carried him to the
dawn of the fox-trot era, when he began
to find himself.

H His swiftness afoot won him some
small neighborhood fame as a dancer
and almost imperceptibly he drifted over
the line into professional dancing. As a
champion of the Charleston he toured the
United States and Europe in vaudeville
and with musical shows. In six years of
whirlwind hoofing it is his boast that he
never missed a beat.

Along Broadway and in the byways of
metropolitan night life he acquired a
legion of friends and rooters. George
makes friends as easily as a fox terrier
and as unquestioningly. A couple of
years ago he wrote a vivid memoir of his
association with some of the top figures
in underworld society. The article is still
making the rounds of the magazines. No
editor will take it seriously, discounting it
as movie-star hooey.

"I've bounced around with some bad
guys," George says, "but they were good
to me."

Never alone, he is the champion dinner-
check-grabber of the West Coast. If he
has a good thing, whether it be a joke,

Ate ifau EMBARRASSED

WHEN PEOPLE GLANCE YOUR WAY

BeccuU-e &f-

J.eM<^Pi ?

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Siioil Laboratories, Inc., Detroit, Mich., Dept. 8
Siroil Laboratories of Canada, Ltd.,
Box 488, Windsor, Ont., Dept. 8-C

Please send me your booklet on PSORIASIS.

Name

Address . ..

Cry

State.

an investment or a race horse, he can't
wait to share it. His personal finances are
a morass. The very first day he was at
work onThe House Across the Bay, George
endeared himself to everybody in the
company. A friend telephoned him from
a distant track that a certain nag was
ready to "go." George slapped $250 on
the entry's nose and passed the tip along
to everybody at the studio who would
listen to him.

The nag won and there was vast re-
joicing in Wangerville. So pleased was
the phalanx of Raft beneficiaries that
when George, the very next day, broached
the matter of buying a hoss, everybody
within earshot wanted a hunk of the deal.

As things stand now it requires the
full-time services of one of the star's
camp-followers to keep track of the syn-
dicate's finances, and a good chunk of the
business manager's waking hours. Shares
fluctuate from day to day, and indigent
grips and prop boys are forever borrow-
ing four bucks until pay-day with their
l/1100th of a horse as security.

In his new French Colonial house in
Coldwater Canyon, which is the Big
Money Belt of Beverly Hills, the atmos-
phere of partnership-with-everybody is
much the same. George picked up the
furnishings himself in New York, Lon-
don and Paris, getting acquainted with
Wedgewood and Spode and Duncan
Phyffe and Chippendale and the Num-
bered Louies. His cronies have the run of
the place whether it's convenient to the
master or not.

"Here's the way I dope it," George
Raft confides. "I'm in pictures. I'm a
star. I don't know yet how it happened
or how long it's going to last. It doesn't
hurt to carry a few guys along. I figure
I'm in en a pass myself."

Is Vivien Leigh a Real
Life Scarlett O'Hara?

[Continued from page 19]

life, to the complex character she has
brought to life.

Scarlett O'Hara was a romantic but
she was also a realist. In a South of
honeysuckle and sentimentality, she not
only knew what she wanted of life but
managed by ways either devious or
direct to get it. The harsh experience of
seeing her security devastated by war
developed in the careless coquette a
native shrewdness. Once Scarlett knew
what she wanted, she kept her goal
always in sight, justified any means of
attainment.

Vivien Leigh went through somewhat
the same transition from pampered young
beauty, who sought and captured the
attention of every young man around her,
through a marriage contracted more from
pride than passion, to a well earned
triumph over personal and professional
problems.

Self-centered, Scarlett may have been,
and cunning, and her fierce fight for the
fulfillment of her own destiny may have
been essayed at the expense of others.

'RAWNESS
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LET IT GET IN ITS GOOD WORK.FASTER.BECAUSE
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SUPER-MEDICATED RUB /

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Pains in Back,

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Wrong foods and drinks, worry, overwork and
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troubles may be the true cause of Excess Acidity,
Getting Up Nights, Burning Passages, Leg Pains,
Nervousness, Dizziness, Swollen Ankles, Rheu-
matic Pains, and Puffy Eyelids. In many such
cases the diuretic action of the Doctor's prescription
Cystex helps the Kidneys clean out Excess Acids.
This plus the palliative work of Cystex may easily
make you feel like a new person in just a few days.
Try Cystex under the guarantee of money back
unless completely satisfied. Cystex costs only 3c a
dose at druggists and the guarantee protects you.

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C^IVTEO STYIE

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REX CHROME RING CO.
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NEXT MONTH

Don't miss the fascinating story
about Tyrone Power in which
his lovely, brilliant mother dis-
cusses "My Son"

EYELASH

DARKENER

^ WIM, perspire or cry and always be cer-
5 tain yourlashes and brows remain attrac-
tively dark. Use "Dark-Eyes" instead of
ordinary mascara. One application lasts 4
to 5 weeks. Ends daily make-up bother.
\ Never runs, smarts, smudges or harms
\ lashes. Indelible. Try it! $1 at dept. and
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INDEtlBtE DARKENER "

"Dark-Eyes," 2110 W. Madison St., Dept. 30-B4, Chicago. III.
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Xame Tmc n

Address Slate

But if she were ruthless in her struggle
for security she was equally chivalrous
in lightening the burdens of others about
her, once it was won.

Her undaunted courage, her driving
ambition, her rebellion against conven-
tion, these are the dominant traits that
make Scarlett a compelling figure. And
these traits are part of the armor of
character Vivien Leigh has worn onto
her own private battlegrounds; a gallant
courage, a vaulting ambition, a rich con-
tempt for the bonds of the commonplace.

| Like Scarlett O'Hara's, much of
Vivien's adult life has been spent in
working toward goals either distant or
denied. First there was a patient struggle
for recognition in her chosen career, the
theatre. Tirelessly she tutored at dra-
matic schools in London and Paris. Ardu-
ously she accepted the apprenticeship of
walk-on parts on the stage and minor bits
in British films. Success, when it came,
was as definite as it was deserved.

Her striving for personal happiness has
been just as careful and, it now appears,
destined for as certain an attainment.

Married in 1932 to Herbert Leigh Hol-
man, when she was nineteen years old, at
a moment when social position and
domestic security beckoned invitingly,
Vivien separated from her husband four-
years later. For the last three years she
has been in love with Laurence Olivier..

Like Vivien, Olivier was married and
separated. They faced their situation
with a frankness that demands respect.
There was no furtive secrecy. They were
in love. They knew it. Their respective
legal spouses knew it. Anyone who saw
them together for even a few minutes
knew it. They ignored the past and the
future and lived for the happiness of the
moment.

And just as patience and persistency
won for Vivien the goal she had set for
herself professionally, so time and tenac-
ity have solved the problem of her
domestic desires.

Both Holman and Jill Esmond, Olivier's
actress -wife, have finally applied for
divorce, and the way soon will be open
for Vivien and Larry to marry.

Somehow it is easy to imagine the
shade of Scarlett O'Hara smiling sym-
pathetic approval of the promised real-
ization of this romance.

■ There is much in Vivien's life that
would have appealed to Scarlett's
sense for the dramatic.

Vivien's childhood was as full of change
and adventure as Scarlett's was static
on her father's plantation in Georgia. Like
Scarlett, Vivien was of French and Irish
parentage. Her father, Ernest R. Hartley,
of French descent, was a stock broker in
Calcutta. Her mother, Gertrude Robin-
son Hartley, was from Connemara.

Vivien was born in Darjeeling, a resort
in the foothills of the Himalayas, No-
vember 5, 1913. Her first few years were
spent traveling about Asia and Europe,
to the various capitals where her father's
business called, and the panorama of new
places, new sights, new people, sharpened

the receptiveness of the sensitive little
girl.

When she was eight, Vivien was sent to
England to the Convent of the Sacred
Heart at Roehampton, just outside Lon-
don. Scarlett would have rebelled at the
six years Vivien spent in this convent, for
Scarlett, her creator tells us, held little
with book learning. But Vivien proved
an eager pupil.

Maureen O'Sullivan, who was a school-
mate of Vivien's at Roehampton, is
authority for the note that Vivien's imag-
ination was first turned toward the
theatre at the Convent when, at twelve,
she was cast in a school production of
A Midsummer Night's Dream. Years
later, when they were playing together
with Robert Taylor in A Yank at Oxford,
Maureen recalled to Vivien their exchange
of schoolgirl confidences when each
dreamed someday of becoming an actress.

Vivien was sixteen, the same age at
which Scarlett was first married, when
she set her cap in earnest for a theatrical
career. A year in a French convent at
San Remos, on the Italian Riviera, had
followed graduation from Roehampton,
and then Vivien persuaded her family to
send her to school in Paris where she
might study under one of the stars of
the Comedie Francaise.

Scarlett would have revelled in that
year in Paris, magic beautiful Paris.
Vivien was captivated by its charm and
her enthusism carried her sailing through
her first leading role in a Victor Hugo
play presented at the school.

A final year at a finishing school in
Bavaria, and Vivien returned to London
to enroll in the Royal Academy of Dra-
matic Art.

Here, for two years, she highlighted
her rigid tutoring with walk-on parts in
several plays. And then, at nineteen,
Vivien met and married Herbert Leigh
Holman, a young London lawyer, whose
social position and assured future made
him an enviable catch.

But three months of the brittle, brisk
life of Mayfair society was enough for
Vivien and she turned again to the more
purposeful paths of her own career, adopt-
ing her husband's middle name of Leigh
as the name she would work to win in-
clusion in the electric lights of Picadilly.

Finding no immediate opening on the
London stage, Vivien snatched at several
bits in undistinguished British films for
the experience and then acquired an agent
and began a calculated campaign to
achieve attention as an actress.

A few months after she was 21, Vivien
was swept to the heights of a London
success in the lead of a popular play
called The Mask of Virtue. Her stunning
performance in this hit, brought several
offers of film contracts. She signed with
Alexander Korda and for the better part
of the next two years found herself cast
in one picture after another that was
cancelled before it entered production.

| But if her screen career seemed halted

before it had fairly begun, Vivien

managed to make new opportunities for

herself on the stage while she waited for

screen assignments. Like Scarlett, if she

JOAN
BLONDELL
Star of
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MR. WILLIAMS
A Columbia Picture

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too) — Brownatone is guaran-
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Betain your youthful charm. Get BROWNATONE today.
60c at all drug stores — on a money-back guarantee, or —

SEND FOR TEST BOTTLE

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278 Brownatone Bldg., Covington, Kentucky

Please send me Test Bottle of BROWNATONE and

interesting booklet. Enclosed is a 3c stamp to cover,

partly, cost of packing and mailing.

Check shade wanted:

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WATER IN
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WAKE UP YOUR
LIVER BILE -

Without Calomel— And You'll Jump Out
of Bed in the Morning Rarin' to Go

The liver should pour out two pounds of liquid
fcile into your bowels daily. If this bile is not flow-
ing freely, your food doesn't digest. It just decays
in the bowels. Gas bloats up your stomach. You
get constipated. You feel sour, sunk and the world
looks punk.

It takes those good, old Carter's Little Liver Pills
to get these two pounds of bile flowing freely and
make you feel "up and up." Gentle, yet amazing in
making bile flow freely. Ask for Carter's Little
Liver Pills by name. lOtf and 25^ at all drug Stores.
Stubbornly refuse anything else.

could not accomplish a plan one way, she
tried another. She played a season of
Shakespeare at the Old Vic, a house
famous in London's theatrical tradition.
She journeyed in triumph down to Ox-
ford to guest star in an Oxford Dramatic
Society production of Richard II, in a
setting Scarlett would have loved, with a
clamoring court of admiring young col-
legians packing her dressing room with
roses each night and vieing for the favor
of her smile.

Finally Korda called her for her first
important film role in Fire Over England.

Laurence Olivier, matinee idol of Lon-
don at the moment, was the leading man
in this costume tale of the Elizabethan
period. When they met, the two young
players, each in their ascendancy pro-
fessionally, were both miserable in the
tangle of their private lives. They were
drawn together instantly by a community
of interests and ambitions. Their per-
sonalities complemented each other's, the
alert, self-assured, vital Vivien drawing
out a latent fire in the reserved Larry.

They were together constantly during
the making of Fire Over England and on
its completion made a pilgrimage together
to the Castle of Elsinore, at Kronborg,
Denmark, to play the leads in Hamlet for
a festival week in the locale of the tragedy.

Other films followed quickly for Vivien;
Storm in a Teacup, Dark Journey, A
Yank At Oxford and Sidewalks of London
with Charles Laughton. In The First and
Last, Vivien was again cast opposite
Olivier. Columbia bought this film before
it was released in America and is plan-
ning to distribute it here under the title
Twenty-One Days, following the general
release of Gone With The Wind.

Meanwhile, as Vivien was promoted by
Korda from featured roles to stardom,
bids from Hollywood continued to pour
in on the girl who was considered Britain's
brightest bet in the cinema world. Vivien
turned down all offers to come to America.

IS It is interesting to note that, a full
year before she was selected for the
part, before Hollywood's hectic hunt had
really started, Vivien told friends in
London that the only role that would
tempt her across the seas would be that
of Scarlett O'Hara in a fine new book she
had just read.

But it was not to join the ranks of
candidates for the disputed role of
Scarlett that Vivien finally came to
America in December of 1938. It was to
visit Olivier, then making Wuthering
Heights, on the Goldwyn lot.

How Myron Selznick, the agent, took
her out in a party to his brother's studio
one night to watch the spectacle of the
burning of Atlanta for Gone With The
Wind, and how David, on meeting her
instantly decided he had found the long
sought Scarlett for his picture, is now
Hollywood history.

To that history, after watching Vivien's
inspired management of both her private
and professional affairs, Hollywood has
added a footnote that will index the bril-
liant little English girl as long as she
remains on the public scene: Vivien
Leigh is a real life Scarlett O'Hara.

COMPLEXION

SO BAD
SHE CRIED

Girls! Save yourself the heartaches of a com-
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works beneath your makeup to improve your com-
plexion. Get AKNASOL at any drug or dept.
store or sent postpaid for $1 (C.O.D. if preferred).
Trial size 35c. Colloidal Pharmacals, Inc., Dept.
A, 565 Fifth Ave., New York City.

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HOW TO PLAY THE HAWAIIAN WAY

EASY*. SHORT CUT WAY,' right in your own
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FREE ILLUSTRATED BOOKLET
"How to play the Hawaiian way" tells all
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OAHU SCHOOL OF MUSIC
2150 Payne Ave., Cleveland, Ohio

.rt Corners

real thing for mounting Snapshots, Cards,
Stamp*, etc No paste needed. Neat, -
easy to use lor mounting prints tight or
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counters or send 10£ today for pkg.
of 100 and free samples.
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Relieve Pain

in Few Minutes

Rheumatism

To relieve the torturing pain of Neuritis, Rheu-
matism, Neuralgia or Lumbago in few minutes,
get NURITO, the fine formula, used by thousands.
No opiates. Does the work quickly — must relieve
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Here's How!

[Continued from page 13]

with a clean brush to make each lash
stand out, separate and curling.

There's a perfectly grand mascara that
just came out in an improved formula
and in pretty new pink and blue con-
tainers. It comes in two forms, cake and
cream, and both are amazingly finer and
smoother in texture. All of which makes
them go on easier and makes the lashes
look naturally darker. They leave the
lashes as soft, smooth and silky as a child's,
so you needn't worry about their breaking
off. The shades available are black,
brown and blue and the price is ten cents.

The last two pictures showing Penny's
professional make-up stress two im-
portant points in applying face powder.
Pat, don't rub, face powder on your skin.
Use a large puff and be generous in the
amount of powder, patting it all over the
skin and in the facial crevices. Then,
when the powder has had a chance to set,
go over your face with a soft powder
brush, removing the excess powder and
smoothing the rest to an invisible but
flattering film. You'll find that your
powder lasts hours longer, too.

H Of course, you'll want a nice fine
powder, and one that comes in flat-
tering, natural shades — to complete the
illusion. I have the answer— a silk-sifted
face powder that many movie stars use on
their own pretty pusses. It comes in seven
shades, all the way from the palest pink
to a dark brunette shade; and it costs 10,
25 and 50 cents a box. I'd advise you to
try the small size, because I'm sure you'll
like it.

The same manufacturer makes a straw-
berry scented mask that gives you the
loveliest and quickest home facial you
could imagine. The mask looks like
strawberry ice cream, and smells like it,
too — so I'll guarantee you a pleasant as

well as a profitable 20 minutes under its
soothing sway. It works, like any fine
mask, to increase the circulation and exert
a gentle mechanical pull on your skin.
You'll be delighted to notice the results —
a fresh rosy color and smoother, finer-
pored appearance. The mask costs 10
cents a tube, but you'd better buy two
tubes, because that will give you three
facials. Want the name?

Think of make-up these days and you
automatically think of nail polish shades,
because it's become so smart to match
your fingertips to your lips. To go with
your true red lipstick there's a new shade
of polish in that blazing red-red tone — •
the red that's neither blueish nor orangey.
This color is the latest addition to a line
of lacquers that includes a dozen or so
tints — all the way from a soft dusty rose
to a deep blue-red . . . Recently the
formula was changed so that the polishes
are much more lasting. Even if you give
your nails a thorough drubbing at house
work or office work, you'll find that this
polish will last a full week without chip-
ping or peeling. The firm has a tricky
new way for you to test the various
shades on your own nails. Drop me a
line and I'll tell you more about it. The
price of the polish is, unbelievably, 10
cents a bottle.

Write to me before February 15th if you
wish the names of any of the products
mentioned in this article. Just send a
stamped (U. S. postage, please), self-
addressed envelope for my reply and
address your request to Ann Vernon,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine, 1501 Broad-
way, New York City.

Rudy Vallee, Rosalind Russell, Johnny Weissmuller deeply tanned by his summer
at the New York World's Fair, and Johnny's bride snapped by cameraman Charles
Rhodes at the reception at the Victor Hugo cafe following Barton MacLane's marriage

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Zoo in Hollywood

[Continued from page 28]

the world who is hailed as one of Holly-
wood's most glamourous stars. This girl
looked not more than nineteen or twenty;
she wore a beautifully simple white dress,
bobby socks and sandals. She seemed
a very naive and typically American girl,
with the sort of face every man wishes
his sister had. But as she talked and
showed me about her Pacific Palisades
estate, that deep seductive beauty that is
Sigrid Gurie's became apparent. That
quality of hers that is called exotic is not
of the billboard or magazine cover variety.
It sneaks up to you on tip-toe.

It is easy to imagine a glamorous star
reclining like mad on a panther skin, with
a tropical parrot perched on one wrist and
a Maginot line of bracelets on the other.
But it is hard to picture that same star
clad in grubby slacks, sitting in the middle
of a large wire cage, training a pair of
ferocious ocelots! But that is exactly what
Miss Gurie is doing.

Her husband, Dr. Laurence Spangard,
gave her a male ocelot for an engagement
present. The ocelot, which looks just like
a half-pint leopard with spots and every-
thing, came from South America, and by
the time he arrived in Hollywood he was
mad as all get out. He had been see-sick;
he had been frightened and humiliated
by his crate; he hated everything and
everybody, and was in no mood for any
wise-cracks. Being quite a bit larger
than the biggest house- cat, the ocelot is a
dangerous animal to handle.

And so, wisely, she didn't. "First I
stood outside his cage and let him get used
to looking at me," she said in her fascinat-
ing Scandinavian accent. "Then I began
to talk to him, in a low voice. I told him
how beautiful he was, how much I liked
him, how lucky he was to live in America
now. When he rubbed -against the fence
and let me scratch him behind the ears,
I ventured into the cage. He promptly
retreated, growling with much fierceness.
But I never show fear; I never raise the
voice; I never never spank him. And now
I handle him like any cat. And he rides
in the car with me and looks at the
scenery and loves it. Oh, he is a pet."

She had him about eight months whe:i
Dr. Spangard sent for a girl friend for
him. She arrived in the same frame of
mind the male did, only she has remained
in it. She will now just barely allow
Miss Gurie to pet her, but she shows
plainly that she wishes the lady wouldn't
bother.

I met Lancelot and Lancelottie, as Miss
Gurie has named the ocelots, personally.
Very personally. Standing in the large
cage, I remarked ingratiatingly to Lance-
lot that his beauty was astounding. He
gingerly offered me a large paw and then
tried to swallow my hand, meanwhile
emitting hair-raising growls.

"You see," cried Miss Gurie, "he likes
you, so he talks."

Lancelottie didn't like me. She re-
mained crouched angrily on the balcony
of the house Dr. Spangard built for the
ocelots — and spat. She was a tail-

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swishing proof of Kipling's conviction that
the female is more deadly than the male.

Incidentally, ocelots have never been
known to reproduce in captivity, and all
over the country zoological authorities
are keeping interested eyes on the
romance of Lancelot and Lancelottie.

Miss Gurie feeds the cats raw meat,
olive oil and a vitamin product which
apparently makes up for the absence of
their normal jungle life. Their cage is
large and is built around some trees
which give them their climbing work-outs.
Once- a day, Miss Gurie takes them out to
play with her on the spacious lawns. If
she misses, seeing them for even one day,
Lancelot cries. Lancelottie doesn't give
a hoot . . . yet. But she's weakening.

| "Peanuts, popcorn, lemonade," chanted
Miss Gurie, and we moved on down
the line to her aviary. She has every kind
of bird imaginable, including pheasants
and several exotic Chinese birds. The
most amusing is a certain type of pigeon
which struts around pushing its chest way
up and out, its head resting on its tail;
and the most beautiful bird is Mac, an
eighty-five year old parrot whose plumage
and vocabulary are resplendent. Not so
his disposition. Nobody but Miss Gurie
can handle him with any degree of safety.
He climbed up the wires of his cage,
hunched himself sideways, and then did
the hottest shimmy ever seen outside of
Minsky's. Having thoroughly disarmed
me, he made a sudden lethal grab for my
thumb. While Miss Gurie scolded him
expertly and I backed hastily away from
there, he yelled, "All right, all right, if
that's the way you feel about it!"

J9 A full-throated roar came from the
other side of the hedge. Mac shrieked,
"Quiet, quiet!" and other roars joined the
first. Twelve Great Danes bounded toward
us, looking like nothing so much as a
cavalry charge of very earnest horses. She
remained standing, but a large thunder-
bolt by the name of Remus rode over me
and I went down for the count. Those
dogs of hers are super-Great Danes, the
biggest in the country.

All of her Great Danes are show dogs.
The Spangards have a room set aside that
is simply draped with blue ribbons and
jammed with silver cups. The only un-
doggy note in this room is an aquarium,
and the fish all seemed to me to be suffer-
ing from an inferiority complex.

There are three generations of dogs in
the kennels, and they are dominated by
grand old Champion, the biggest and best
of them all. The Spangards are experi-
menting in breeding blue Danes, and the
five newest puppies have definitely blue
heads and necks and a blue tinge on the
rest of their coats. They are beautiful
and very imusual.

When Sigrid Gurie was eleven years

old in Oslo, Norway, she showed her

family what to expect in the future by

bringing home two cute little kittens.

They turned out to be wild cats.

Mrs. Haukelid, the star's mother who
came to America for her daughter's wed-
ding and is being kept here because of the

war, told me that little Sigrid was con-
tinually bringing home stray animals.

"Well, we had plenty of room," said
Miss Gurie. "Our home is on a mountain.
The land is so big we'd say, 'that peak
over there marks our north boundary and
that farthest lake is on the southern line.'
There are thirty lakes on the place and
miles and miles of pasture for the sheep-
herders and their sheep. It is good hunt-
ing on this place, but I never could kill
anything. I always shot at targets, and
I hit them, too. I am a good shot, but the
idea of killing an animal gives me
shudders."

She will kill flies, however. In her patio
she has a large electrified plate covered
with a coarse wire screen. A jar of honey
coaxes the flies under the screen and the
plate capital-punishes them and sends
them to fly heaven accompanied by a
sizzling sound and a thin column of smoke.

SI Miss Gurie was born in Brooklyn,
but her family took her back to
Norway when she was eleven months
old. She lived, studied and traveled in
Europe until she came to Hollywood. Born
in America of Norwegian parents, married
to an American, she doesn't know exactly
what she is.

Of one thing she is certain, however.
"I am the worst skiier and skater in
Europe," she said. "I do not like sports.
I am just no good at them. I like to sit
and knit and I like to train my animals,
but I can train an ocelot faster than I can
knit a sweater. My husband bought me a
bicycle and makes me ride for the exer-
cise. It is a racing machine. For what do
I want a racing bicycle? Me? I am lazy."

Far be it from me to doubt Miss Gurie's
word, but if she is lazy how is it that she
has decorated an enormous house, super-
vised an elaborate and beautiful new
garden, trained two ocelots and any num-
ber of dogs, appeared on the radio, and
worked at the studio every day? Why
does she hate layoffs?

H One paragraph in the star's "biog-
raphy," made up by the studio for
publicity purposes, reads: "After being
educated in Norway and in finishing
schools in Brussels and Biarritz and in
the Art School of London, she decided to
become a screen actress. She came to the
United States and then journeyed to
Hollywood. She studied dramatics under
a well-known Hollywood coach and when
she thought she was ready, she applied
at the studios for work. She was signed
by Sam Goldwyn, who cast her in Marco
Polo.

"Was it as easy as all that?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," she said surprisingly. "One
day I decided the time had come and I
went to Universal. They turned me down
because I had too much of an accent. The
same day I went to see Mr. Goldwyn and
he signed me . . . because of my accent,
I bet."

But I'll bet it wasn't. Sam Goldwyn has
scooped Hollywood on glamour before.

"The first time I saw myself on the
screen I didn't recognize myself," said
Miss Gurie. "I thought it was some other
girl, and I thought she did very well, too!"

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FEB 12 I9W

MARCH, 1940
Vol. 29 No, 3

©CI B 4 4 5 4 6 7 7i

Hollywood

W. H. FAWCETT
Publisher

(Resr. U. S. Pat. Off.:

LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor

Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Injun Fighting Is Still Tough Work by Serena Bradford 8

Ze Brazilian Bombshell (Carmen Miranda) by Fred Feldkamp I 8

Battle of the Sexes

(Mae West and W. C. Fields) by Thomas Nord Riley 23

She Married Adventure (Osa Johnson) by Wilbur Morse, Jr. 25

How To Do Spring-Cleaning (Basil Rathbone) by Kay Proctor 26

Patia Power Discusses "My Son — Tyrone" by Jessie Henderson 28

Swiss Family Robinson in Hollywood by Emily Norris 30

Back to the Farm (James Cagney) by Beth Brown 32

On Safari in Hollywood by E. J. Smithson 38

What the Family Said by Kolma Flake 54

Charlie's Night Out (with Edgar Bergen and Ken Murray) ... 66

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Elmer Sunfield 6

Important Pictures. ..: by Llewellyn Miller 10

Movie Crossword 1 4

The Show Goes On by The Editor 16

Face Facts by Ann Vernon 42

Blondie's Bridge Luncheon by Betty Crocker 60

"GONE WITH THE WIND'' JEWELRY CONTEST WINNERS! 16

Smiling amid her Easter orchids is
Andrea Leeds, who appears soon
in 20th Century-Fox's Maryland

RALPH DAIGH, Mana3ins Editor

GORDON FAWCETT, Hollywood ManaSer

CHARLES RHODES, Staff Photo3rapher

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc., linn West Broadway, Louisville, Kyi/Printed in U. S. A. Entered as second class matter at the post
office at Louisville, Ky., under the act of March 3. 1S7!J, with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 19IoJ|f>y Fawcett Publications. Inc. W. H. Fawcett. Publisher: Elliott
Odell. Advertising Director. General offices, Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Trademark registered in TJ. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and
possessions; $l.no in Canada; foreign subscription $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich,
Conn. Single issues five cents. Advertising forms close on the 18th of third month precedipg date of issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence
concerning subscriptions to Fawcett Building, Greenwich. Conn. Advertising offices; New York; 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 360 N. Michigan Ave.; San Francisco. Simpson-Reilly, 1014
Buss Building; Los Angeles, Simpson-Beilly, Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices. 1501 Broadway, New York City; Hollywood office, S555 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, California.

i:HI¥AVI«I«]iS:i4V^1el44«

By ELMER SUNFIELD

■ All we know about The Dictator is
what we have gleaned from a prop
boy. The prop boys says that he's laughed
so hard and so long during the shooting
that he's gained 10 pounds.

The story of The Dictator, so my prop
boy says, is a sort of "split-in-two plot"
affair. One story tells about what goes
on in the imaginary world of a dictator —
his government, his palace, and his king-
dom. The other story deals with a smaller
world — a ghetto in which live peace-
loving, law-abiding workers who ask that
they be allowed to go their happy ways in
peace and quiet. A curious resemblance
between the dictator and a resident of the
ghetto then leads to a story involving both
worlds.

Charlie Chaplin, says the prop boy, is
always called "Charlie" by everybody on
the set when he is in the role of Charlie.
But when he assumes the robes of the
dictator, everybody calls him Mr. Chaplin.
There seems to be something in those
dictatorial trappings — the sword, the
epaulettes, the cap and so on, that changes
Chaplin completely. Even his voice
changes, says the prop boy. The sets are
far from lavish. Such old-time comedy
favorites as Chester Conklin, Eddie Grib-
bon, and Hank Mann are in the cast.
Paulette Goddard is the leading lady.

Reginald Gardiner, Jack Oakie, Henry
Daniell, Maurice Moscovitch, Luc i en
Prival, Emma Dunn, Bernard Gorcey and
Billy Gilbert have featured roles.

■ If Edward Norris is so financially dis-
posed, he can settle a private debt of
$6,400,000. Here's how.

In 1663, a member of the Norris clan
borrowed 10,000 pounds sterling at 2 per
cent compound interest from Charles I

"Well," said Jimmy, finally, "when do
we get going?"

"Oh," grinned Dorothy, "we're not going
any place. This automobile party is just
like your yachting party."

And with that she opened up the lunch
hamper and offered the surprised Jimmy
a sandwich.

■ While in Connecticut last summer,
David Niven, now in England, noticed
a theatre showing a picture in which he
was co-starred, and he decided to have
some fun.

Introducing himself to the theatre's
manager, he outlined his plan. After the
picture had been shown, the house lights
went on, and the manager introduced his
guest as "a young British lad who does a
very good imitation of David Niven, the
star of the picture you've just seen."

Thereupon David made his entrance,
went through a very natural routine,
stalled for about five minutes, and finally
left the stage blushing profusely. Not
one person in the audience recognized him
as the REAL Niven.

BS Brian Aherne, now working in My
Son, My Son, went off his feed during
the first week of production, and his wife,
[Continued on page 49]

Joan Crawford wore snood, hood and
lace ruffle to the evident delight of
Cesar Romero, who took her to the
opening and to Jock Whitney's party

Hollywood's newest, brightest star,
Vivien Leigh, arrives for the first
showing of Gone With the Wind with
her fiance, Lawrence Olivier. Notice
the three ermine wraps on this page

of England in order to build himself a
castle on the Isle of Wight. Ill fortune
then beset the family and no payments
were ever made to the Exchequer.

Eddie took time out the other day to
figure his family's indebtedness. He found
that the original sum had doubled itself
seven times and had reached the stag-
gering sum of 1,280,000 pounds or, as we
write, $6,400,000. Eddie didn't say whether
or no he had hopes of paying this sum,
but he's doing a lot of worrying about it.

■ We still get a big laugh out of that
Cagney-Dorothy Parker story.

One Sunday, while Jimmy was making
The Fighting 69th, he invited Dorothy
Parker and her husband, Alan Campbell,
to a party on his yacht. They didn't
know it, but Cagney is allergic to the open
sea. Being so, he kept the boat at anchor
all day long.

Toward evening, his guests invited
Cagney to an automobile party. Arriving
at their home, he found Dorothy and her
husband sitting in their auto. He joined
them.

They sat chatting about this and that
for some time.

Norma Shearer entering John Stein-
berg's new Trocadero with George Raft
for the party which Producer Whitney
gave following Gone With the Wind

ONLY RUDYARD KIPLING COULD
WRITE SUCH A ROMANCE...

ONLY RONALD COLMAN COULD
PLAY SUCH A ROLE!

"Laugh, you little fool,
laugh. ..for I'm giving sife
you something you've **%•
never had before . . .
A soul. ..on canvas!"

o those who believe in romance, Paramount dedicates
this glorious film re-creation of Kipling's never-to-be-
forgotten story of Dick Heldar, artist, adventurer,
gentleman unafraid. For this is romance, the romance of
far places, Abu-Hamed, Khartoum, Port Said, London,
and of the men who fought for glory beneath the
desert sun . . . but more than that . . . the romance
of that strange wilderness which is the heart of man.

A Paramount Picture with

WALTER HUSTON

Ida Lupino • Muriel Angelus • Dudley Digges

Produced and Directed by WILLIAM A. WELLMAN

Screen Play by Robert Carson

Based on the Novel by Rudyard Kipling

tiime'1 »"

!©*#*

Work

~* 8 endorse

falter »r .fcoroug^

■ Through the icy river waters, which
were just four degrees above freezing,
struggled Robert Young with hatchets,
rifles, and an accidentally overturned
canoe practically wrapped around his
neck. Under the weight of the heavy green
uniform worn by Rogers' Rangers in the
year 1759, complete with belt, boots, Scot's
cap and tomahawk, he was tugged this
way and that by the rushing current be-
fore he gained the river bank, where half-
naked Indians hauled him to safety. Young
sank down on a rock.

"Tell you what," he suggested when he
caught his breath, "why don't you have
them scalp me?''

Director King Vidor stared at him.

"Everything else has happened to me in
this picture," explained Bob gaily as his
teeth began to chatter.

He spoke the truth. Things happened
to Spencer Tracy, too (Major Robert Rog-
ers, the greatest Indian fighter of all time) ,
and to Walter Brennan (Hunk Marriner),
and to others in the cast of the Technicolor
production, Northwest Passage, both while
they camped in the wilds of Idaho and
after they returned to M-G-M studio for
interior scenes. But the sufferings of Ma-
jor Rogers were epic, while the doggond-
est things, the annoying things — in the
scenario and out of it — seemed reserved
for Bob. Even to the fact that when he
came home after six weeks on location,
his little daughter wouldn't kiss him. They
made him go unshaven for a fortnight, and
Carol doesn't like beards.

That particular ducking in the river,

for there were lots of others, caught Bob
so unprepared that the result might easily
have been serious.

As youthful Langdon Towne, one of the
two chief characters in Kenneth Roberts'
book, he was lying, badly wounded, flat
on his back in the bottom of the canoe,
when despite the paddler's efforts, the
craft began to float too near the camera
launch. A member of the camera crew
tried to shove it away with his foot and
capsized it. Expert divers were going
down in 16 feet of chilly water for the
next half hour to rescue equipment.

As a matter of fact, such is the reputa-
tion of the tempestuous Payette River, up
among the mountains near the little Idaho

town of McCall, that the company in-
cluded not only expert divers but also
Olympic swimmers and professional life-
guards. On a ten-mile lake situated deep
in the wilds, the studio revamped the face
of nature with a thoroughness seldom
known even to a movie location unit.

They cleared ten acres of forest, and
that's a-plenty of forest. They built a
dam and dynamited it, thus widening the
river at a certain point so that the French-
and-Indian Wars of the New England col-
onies could continue unobstructed. And,
by permission of the proper authorities,
they blew up an island that stood in the
combatants' way.

At the very [Continued on page 35]

One Day Soon

THK ls"i-3HTir45: SQV

they'll all be saying

"J&r

S GO SEE

THE FIGHTING 69™

a /
Let's see 'THE FIGHTING 69TH'! Because if ever a movie moved

this is the one! There' ve been exciting films before — but not

this kind of excitement! You've laughed Joudly and long in

the theatre before, but never louder nor longer than this time.

And there will be a teardrop too . . . but the kind of tears that

bring cheers when it's over!

Let's see THE FIGHTING 69TH' and see grand screen stars like
JIMMY ft CAGNEY and PAT ft O'BRIEN and GEORGE ft BRENT give
to their parts from their hearts; for of all the roles they've
portrayed, of these they'll be proudest ever!

Let's see THE FIGHTING 69TH'

because 'The Fighting 69th'
brings you history's heroes
—the story of their glory,
which, once seen, no girl can
help but cherish.

f«r_\-&

A new Warner Bros, success

JAMES CAGNEY- PAT O'BRIEN
GEORGE BRENT

/THE FIGHTING 69™'

with

JEFFREY LYNN -ALAN HALE 'FRANK McHUGH
DENNIS MORGAN • DICK FORAN

WILLIAM LUNDIGAN . GUINN "BIG BOY" WILLIAMS

HENRY O'NEILL . JOHN LITEL

Directed by WILLIAM KEIGHLEY

Original Screen Ploy by Norman Reilly Raine, Fred Niblo, Jr.,
and Dean Franklin • A Warner Bros. -First National Picture

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HIS GIRL FRIDAY — Columbia

| Brightest comedy of the month is this
re-make of The Front Page with the
fast-talking quick-tempered star reporter,
Hildy Johnson, turned astonishingly into
a girl! Once you become accustomed to
the surprising idea, you have to admit that
the story remains the same and that the
plot, for screen purposes, is all the better
for the bitter, quarrelsome romance that
runs all the way through instead of ap-
pearing only incidentally.

Cary Grant plays the fantastic Walter
Burns, managing editor, to whom kid-
naping, arson, and the passing of counter-
feit bills are all reasonable practices if
they help him get a story. In the new
version, Hildy Johnson (Rosalind Russell)
is not only his star reporter who is quit-
ting the newspaper busines in a rage,
Hildy is also his ex-wife who is marrying
a sweet, mild, innocent insurance agent,
played with enchanting bewilderment by
Ralph Bellamy.

Burns is determined not to let the best
reporter he ever had get away. He also
is determined to get his wife back, and
the unfortunate insurance agent is arrested
four different times during the course of
one hectic afternoon on such fantastic
charges as mashing, stealing a watch and
passing phony bills.

Howard Hawk's direction and the
sparkling playing of the whole cast keep
the show moving at firecracker speed.

There is bright new dialogue, quite in
the spirit of the play, and the gaiety of
a genuine comedy hit throughout.

RAFFLES — United Artists

B Dear Raffles is back again, matching
wits with Scotland Yard, doing good
deeds and polishing away his finger prints
with suave, insouciant grace. Why is it
that "the amateur cracksman" who cer-
tainly would be an undesirable social con-
nection in everyday life, becomes such a
delightful fellow at a matinee? Why is
it that we are inclined to think of him,
affectionately, as the Robin Hood of the
Twentieth Century, rather than, with dis-
taste, as a well-dressed public enemy?
Why are we glad he gets away?

Part of the answer lies in the charm of
the gentlemen who play the part. David
Niven is an ideal choice for the new ver-
sion of the old favorite. He can look
honorable and pained at the same time
better than anybody, and our heart bleeds
when he faces the necessity of stealing his
hostess' necklace. . . . such wretched
taste!

Olivia de Havilland plays his sweet-
heart with quiet, convincing charm.
Dudley Digges has a fine time with the
part of the wily Inspector MacKenzie and
the rest of the cast is equally well cast
and talented..

Raffles was completed just a few days
before David Niven left for England. He

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Where's your fare?" the con-
ductor wants to know — and me
without even a dime. "Right here,"
says I, passing him a stick of
Beeman's. "Spent my last nickel
for it. And is it a treat! Taste that
keen, fresh flavor, that delightful
tang—"

"Beeman's!" says he, looking
mighty tempted. "I've been han-
kering for a chew of that smooth,
tasty gum. Beeman's flavor rings
the bell with me every time. Al-
ways fresh, always peppy. And
just to show you I appreciate it—
by golly, I'll lend you your fare
myself!"

had some little difficulty getting back be-
cause no one wanted him to go. Even the
British Government wanted him to stay
on this side, wait until he was called. But
his friends and relatives all were in the
army, and he felt that the only thing to do
was to return and join his old regiment.

SWANEE RIVER—

Tiventieth Century-Fox

fl Stephen Foster was a remarkable
man. He started writing songs be-
fore the Civil War, wrote hundreds of
them, and the nation is singing many of
them to this day.

Foster, in spite of his fame, was a failure
from the start. His family scorned his
musical ambitions, wanted him to go into
business, so he was a disappointment
there. He also was a failure to himself
because, while such songs as "Old Black
Joe," "Breakdown Races," "Oh, Susanna,"
and "Way Down Upon the Swanee
River" brought him plenty of money, he
wanted to write serious music, and his
talent did not extend that far. And he
was a failure as a husband because he
turned to drink in all emergencies, and
finally didn't wait for an emergency to
pour out another.

The chief interest of the film which
tells his story is the delight which au-
diences show as one old favorite after
another is sung. Andrea Leeds plays the
girl who believed in the young song
writer, forgave him numerous binges only
to leave him at last. Al Jolson plays the
bombastic minstrel show producer, E. P.
Christy, who cheated Foster out of profits
on early songs, but who paid him gen-
erously when he had to. Don Ameche
plays Foster in just exactly the same
bouncing spirit he gave to his Alexander
Graham Bell, which is all right if you
keep your wits about you. We are sorry
to say that we became a little confused at
one point. Perhaps it was the drowsy
warmth of the theatre. Perhaps we were
carried away by the pretty lights and
shadows of the Technicolor. But the fact
remains that, when Foster finally, after
much suspense, thought up the melody of
"My Old Kentucky Home," we were
pretty mixed up for a moment. We had
expected him to produce the telephone.

DESTRY RIDES AGAIN— Universal

H No wonder westerns have been popu-
lar since the very first one was filmed.
No wonder the people in the cow towns
think pityingly of the unhappy folk in
the big commercial centers who never get
a chance to see the sheriff foil the bad men.
No wonder, if all westerns are like this
one!

They aren't, of course. Destry Rides
Again is one terrific, definitive western
with all of the stock plots neatly pieced
together and Marlene Dietrich added for
good measure. And if it isn't just about
the best western you've ever seen, this
department will go out, plait itself a lariat
and hang itself.

The big moment of the film is the fight
between gentle Miss Una Merkel and the
exotic Miss Dietrich whose greatest phy-

sical effort on the screen in the past has
been the lowering of eyelids, and some
deep breathing. It is a wild rough-and-
tumble, with both distinguished ladies
seeming as deadly in the clinches as a
combination of rotary press and moun-
tain lion. James Stewart, who has the
unhappy job of keeping the peace, suffers
horribly, first as an innocent bystander,
second as referee, but he has an under-
lying look of pleasure through it all be-
cause he must be enjoying the part. Cer-
tainly it is one of the best for this young
star, who has had very good ones indeed
recently.

Charles Winninger, Mischa Auer, Brian
Donlevy, Irene Hervey, Allen Jenkins,
Billy Gilbert and Warren Hymer play as-
sorted good and bad citizens of the little
town out where the west begins to hurt.

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS— Paramount

9 The amount of labor involved in
making the thousands of drawings
necessary for a feature length cartoon is
staggering to the imagination, and anyone
who has the persistence to complete such
a film deserves great admiration. In-
evitably, however, comparisons must be
made with the first cartoon feature,
Disney's Snow White, because it was the
first and because it set such a high
standard.

Gulliver's Travels is not very much like
Snow White, except that both are car-
toons. Gulliver deals mainly with people
while all of Disney's stories are crowded
with enchanting little animals. Perhaps
that is one of the explanations of the
great charm of Disney's stories. The fact
that his little creatures betray human
emotions and impulses is the basis for that
delicate, ironic gentle humor that never is
lacking in his films.

Max Fleischer chose to make the satiric
tale of Gulliver and his voyage to the land
of the Lilliputs for his first full length
cartoon. To the familiar adventures he
added a love story concerning the
thwarted passion of the prince and prin-
cess whose fathers go to war because they
can't agree on which national anthem
will be played at the wedding. The idea
is quite in keeping with Swift's story, but
it must be admitted that the little prince
and princess are even more wooden and
sweetly unconvincing than was the prince
in Snow White. And that poor fellow
touched a new low as a negative character.

There is much in Gulliver that is de-
lighting children . . . gay songs, pretty
color and some broad comedy that is
effective. Scenes where the little people
sneak up on the giant in the moonlight
are particularly well done, but there are
some who wish that the fascinating de-
tails of how the Lilliputian empire fed and
housed Gulliver were not cut out, some
who could do away with the romance.

However, it is a tremendous effort, and
undoubtedly Mr. Fleischer will have his
just reward in the laughter of many hun-
dreds of thousands of children.

OF MICE AND MEN — United Artists

■ Lennie wasn't bright, but he was as

strong as four men, and almost twice

as big as his friend, George. Lennie meant

no harm, and he was anguished with shal-
low grief when he petted his beloved
puppy too hard and killed it.

George was smart. He knew that he
had to watch Lennie carefully or there
would be trouble, because there always
Was trouble. They had left their last
good job in a hurry because Lennie wanted
to stroke the red velvet of a girl's dress,
and there wasn't time to explain that
Lennie loved pretty-colored soft things,
that he liked to stroke little mice.

Like many men who roam the country,
taking work where they can find it, plant-
ing a crop in one end of the state, harvest-
ing a crop at the other end, Lennie and
George talked a lot about getting a little
piece of land for their own. It was just
a piece of talk until they ran into old
Candy who knew that he was too old to
get another job and who had $300. The
money was no good to old Candy all by
himself. At best, it held off the poor
house for a few months. But, in partner-
ship with strong Lennie and smart George
. . . there was a hope. All three of them
took fire at the idea, but a shocking, in-
evitable, useless tragedy destroyed all of
their well laid plans.

This story was written by John Stein-
beck, author of the sensational success,
Grapes of Wrath. It also is a story of the
mean lives, the almost hopeless lot of
migratory workers. It also is absorbing
and not a little depressing.

Burgess Meredith plays George, who
watched after Lennie because the big
dangerous lunk needed him and gave him
unwavering affection. Lon Chaney, Jr.,
plays Lennie, and, after you become ac-
customed to the strongly emphasized
mannerisms, gives him a. pathetic eager-
ness and a frightening force. Betty Field
is the only woman in the cast. She plays
the bored, lonely, neglected young wife
who just wanted someone to talk to, and
so destroyed herself and Lennie and
George. The cowboy star, Bob Steele, is
seen as Curley, brutal jealous son of the
boss. Charles Bickford, Roman Bohnen,
Noah Beery, Jr., Oscar O'Shea, Granville
Bates and Leigh Whipper carry important
roles, and the cast is uniformly excellent.

There are shocking scenes in this film,
shocking to the eyes, like the crushing of
Curley's hand, and shocking to the mind,
like the hints of cruelty in the man-
hunt, but it is an absorbing picture and
one to remember.

On his way to M-G-M Jimmy Stewart
got his car bumpers locked tight with
those of another car. During the un-
snarling of the traffic jam, Jimmy was
recognized and spent a hectic twenty
minutes signing autographs. In the crowd
that had gathered Clark Gable and
Spencer Tracy, both unrecognized be-
cause of their make-ups, pushed through
and in loud and raucous voices demanded
an autograph. When Jimmy refused they
gave him a tongue-lashing on traffic vio-
lations. It was all in good clean fun, and
Jimmy, catching the spirit of the thing,
kept their identity secret, and gave as
good as he received. So well was the act
staged that a cop finally told "em to pipe
down or he'd have to call the wagon!

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Name

Address

■

12
20

16
24

■

■28

36
45

40
49

ACROSS

1. Feminine lead in Disputed Passage.
6. The menace in Return of Dr. X.

11. Poetic name of Maureen O'Sullivan's birth-
place.

12. It makes Asta scratch.

13. Date in January on which Loretta Young
celebrates birth.

14. He co-stars with Claudette in Drums Along
the Mohawk.

16. Never Die.

17. Birthplace of 1 Across (abbr.).

18. What Mary Pickford's husband is called
(Short).

19.. Lieut. Guild in Another Thin Man.

21. Lola's initials.

22. Bette Davis wore a red one in Private Lives
of Elizabeth and Essex.

23. First name of a featured actor in The Great
Victor Herbert.

25. One of Five Little Peppers (poss.).

27. Star of The Day the Bookies Wept.

28. One of custard variety is thrown at comedians.

29. Descriptive of Hollywood's glamour girls.
32. First name of Sally Blane's husband.

36. Married a Cop.

37. Dawn South.

38. Miss Rutherford's initials.

40. Ronald Colman's birthplace (abbr.).

42. Color of Hedy Lamarr's hair.

43. Initials of Mr. Rathbone.

44. My Darling Daughter.

46. Feminine lead in One Hour to Live.

47. They Made a Spy.

48. Anne Hewitt in Meet Dr. Christian.

50. Mrs. Errol Flynn.

51. Last name of 18 Across.

52. Buster Keaton was born here.

(Soluti

9.
10.
14.
15.

IS.
20.

24.
26.
27.
29.
30.
31.
33.
34.
35.
39.

41.
42.
43.
45.
47.
49.
50.

DOWN

Star of Intermezzo.

Selection from a Deanna Durbin film.

He rode Tony in Westerns.

Dress Parade.

First name of Mr. Howes.

A Child Is .

Miss Farrell's initials.
Whose mammy singing
River?

is heard in Swanee

The

Glory.

A star of Remember?

Comedian in Eternally Yours.

Rudy Vallee attended this university.

Small part in a screenplay.

Date in December on which Una Merkel

celebrates birth.

Tour .

6,000 ■ (sing.).

Television .

What actors use to autograph a picture.

Performer in a motion picture.

Word often used in film titles.

Grace Moore's birthplace (abbr.).

Greer Garson's screen father in Remember?

Brother and the Baby.

Louie Peronni in The Escape.

Richard Dix and Gail Patrick co-star in this

film.

Henry Arizona.

Tim Holtls father.

Star of The Phantom Creeps.

His last name is Rumann.

Girl Friday.

Cecil B. Mille.

Lloyd Nolan's initials.

ge 53)

'1 know men better

'than their

"I see them stripped of the cloak
of civilization...! see the depths
of terror in the secret places of
their hearts. It takes a lot to
make me love a man in the
face of all I know about them!'

THE AUTHOR of
THE CITADEL'

Reveals the Intimate Secrets

Of a Private Nurse ina drama more)
searching and absorbing than his first great
success— the story of two sisters and a doctor
who braved a cloistered code to find the love
their spartan calling would deny them... Played
by three great stars with a brilliance that makes
this the first great human drama of the year.

ANNE

SHiRinr

with JULIEN MITCHELL* ROBERT COOTE-BRENDA FORBES* PETER CUSHING
Produced and Directed by the man who made 'Gunga Din' GEORGE STEVENS

PANDRO S. HERMAN In Charge of Production • RKO RADIO PICTURE

Screen Play by Fred Cuiol ... P. J. Wolfson . . Rowland Leigh

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of Tampax. I enclose lOtf (stamps or silver) to cover cost
of mailing. Size is checked below:
( ) REGULAR ( ) SUPER ' ( ) JUNIOR

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Address.
Citv

By THE EDITOR

.State.

■ The big news of this and many months
to come is Gone With the Wind, of
course, and there does not seem to be
much of anything to add to the reams of
compliments, the tons of news reports,
the glowing comments of all those who
have seen it except to remark that, to us,
the film seemed a little short.

Not that we would like to see many
films that run four hours. Sincerely, we
hope that Gone With the Wind does not
start a "trend" of pictures that last an
entire evening. Length, alone, never made
a good picture better, and many a bad
picture becomes insufferable after the
first hour.

But Gone With the Wind is different,
and so are we, and we think with longing
of all of those yards and yards of film
that fell on the cutting room floor. Wist-
fully, we regret that there wasn't a little
bit more about those early days on the
plantation, more about the fiery Gerald
O'Hara, more footage for the colorless
little sisters, more space for the wonder-
ful, loyal, simple Pork, the battling
Mammy, the infuriating Prissy, and all of
those hundreds of characters, including
two of Scarlett's children, who never were
mentioned in the script.

It is a wonderful job that the script
writers have done, and it is hard to find
a single essential scene that has not been
touched on, at least briefly. But wouldn't
you like to see more of the upstart over-
seer? And of the impossible Emmy Slat-
tery? And of Aunt Pitty-Pat? Of course
you would. That is why the picture is
apt to walk away with just about all of
this year's awards.

| The awards for 1939 have been getting
top attention for the last weeks. One
of the most interesting polls, and one of
the most important is the Film Daily's
Annual. That important trade paper
makes a survey of the whole country
each year, and the results are particularly
interesting in that they represent the
opinion of the entire nation.

Five hundred and forty-two critics
voted, and here is the singularly interest-
ing list of ten best pictures of 1939:

Votes

1. Goodbye, Mr. Chips (M-G-M) 472

2. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

(Columbia) 433

3. Pygmalion (M-G-M) 349

4. Wuthering Heights (Goldwyn) 283

5. Dark Victory (Warners) 280

6. The Women (M-G-M) 254

7. The Wizard of Oz (M-G-M) 244

8. Juarez (Warners) 216

9. Stanley and Livingstone

(20th Century-Fox) 213

10. The Old Maid (Warners) 166

On the honor roll, with almost so many
votes as The Old Maid, are Stagecoach,
Young Mr. Lincoln, Babes in Arms, Love
Affair and Union Pacific.

H Another poll of great interest is that
conducted each year by another great
trade paper, The Motion Picture Herald.
It is based on the actual box-office returns
in all of the theatres of the country. The
popularity of these ten leading players is
evidenced by the clink of money actually
paid across the ticket counter, a pretty
good standard of judging! The following
players were chosen and in this order by
votes from 12,273 exhibitors all over the
country.

1. Mickey Rooney

2. Tyrone Power

3. Spencer Tracy

4. Clark Gable

5. Shirley Temple

6. Bette Davis

7. Alice Faye

8. Errol Flynn

9. James Cagney

10. Sonja Henie

11. Jane Withers

12. Bing Crosby

Hollywood Magazine is proud of the
fact that, in keeping with its policy of
giving you latest news about your favor-
ites, it has had feature stories on all of
these personalities and that very nearly
all of them have been engagingly por-
trayed on our colorful covers.

Prize Winners

Gone With the Wind
Jewelry Contest

■ Congratulations to the clever prize
winners, listed below, and sincere re-
grets from Hollywood Magazine that there
were not a hundred times as many prizes.
So many thousands of readers sent in
such exceptionally good entries that the
task of judging was extremely difficult,
but, after days of comparing and check-
ing, the judges announce this list of
winners:

Grand Prize Winner

Marvelle M. Nice, East 415 Wellesley Ave., Spokane,
Wash.

First Prize Winner

Mrs. Duane Himber, 1722 Washington St., Eugene,
Ore.

Second Prize Winner

Mrs. Lillian Woods, Palmer, Neb.

Third Prize Winner

Mrs. James Lennox, 2528 N. New Jersey St., Indian-
apolis, Ind.

Fourth Prize Winners

Mable R. Starks, 1235 Warren Road, Lakewood, Ohio.
Mrs. Russell John Hook, 1752 Shaw Ave., East Cleve-
land, Ohio.
Miriam Anderson, 1239 W. 101st St., Los Angeles,

Calif.
Ruth Smith, 8009 Avalon Ave., Chicago, III.
Mildred Lee Ward, R. F. D. No. I, Box 267, Norfolk,

Va.
Mrs. Leo Kowalski, 61 Diamond St., San Francisco,

Calif.
Marguerite Butler, 1934 S. Buckeye St., Kokomo, Ind.
Alice Heiss, 180 Potomac Ave., Buffalo, N. Y.
Doris Gordon Frazer, Wainright Hall on 1 18th St.,

Kew Gardens, N. Y.
Betty Meyer, 904 N. Madison Ave., Los Angeles,

Calif.
Joyce O'Hara, 1014 Dragoon Ave., Detroit, Mich.
Mrs. William L. Stanaway, 126 East Case, Negaunee,

Mich.
Betty McClellan, 134 Arlington St., West Haven,

Conn.
Helene Ramsey, 615 Linwood Ave., N. E., Atlanta,

Ga.
Mary C. Moore, 735 N. 63rd St., Philadelphia, Pa.
Mrs. H. R. Bierhorst, 1316 Jennings, Shreveport, La.
Mrs. L. Willis, 81 Glen Ave., No. 305, Oakland, Calif.
Margaret Wilson, Box 3339, Texas State College for

Women, Denton, Tex.
Helen Choucleris, 227 Millwood Ave., Winchester,

Va.
Mrs. William H. Holden, 3 Vine St., Peterborough,

N. H.

Fifth Prize Winners

Mrs. J. H. Percy, Jr., 608 Fifth St., Baton Rouge, La.
Helen Ann Mahan, 1417 S. 17th St., Terre Haute, Ind.
Helen L. Gagarin, 7942 N. W. 7th Ave., Miami, Fla.
Jennie Smith, 39 Princeton Blvd., Kenmore, N. Y.

Jane Withers spending time between
takes on Jubilo, in which she plays
opposite Gene Autry, to get evident
pleasure out of the adventures of
Captain Marvel, one of the many
noble heroes of Fawcett's new comic
strip book, Whiz Comics, now on sale

Hazel Timms, 353 Second Ave., San Francisco, Calif.
Mabel A. Abbott, 7224 S. E. 21st Ave., Portland, Ore.
Florence E. Johnson, 16050 Plymouth Road, Detroit,

Mich.
Ruthe Jones, 241 E. Seaside Blvd., Long Beach, Calif.
Ethel B. Hirst, 322 Harrison Ave., Upper Darby, Pa.
Mrs. V. G. Vasbinder, 2320 Ridgewood Ave., Alliance,

Ohio.
Beatrice Genter, 826 National Rd. (Glenwood),

Wheeling, W. Va.

Nancy Farr, 48 Boylston St., Cambridge, Mass.
Jeanne M. Flanagan, 2629 E. 127th St., Cleveland
Ohio.

Sara Nollner, 1915 Russell St., Nashville, Tenn.
Mrs. Racine C. Heuchan, 414 N. 8th St., Columbia,
Mo.

Mildred Cawthorne, 213 S. Pine St., Mt. Prospect, III.
Hazel Gullens, c/o Drug Dept., Hudson's Bay Co.,

Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
Patricia Hendron, 3943 Kennerly Ave., St. Louis, Mo.
Terry Krug, 1711 Central Park, Topeka, Kans.
Harry Stecko, 112 Churchill St., McKees Rocks, Pa.

H Next month Hollywood Magazine
promises to be an issue packed with,
fun and information. We found Mischa
Auer complaining bitterly that women's
clothes forever were being influenced by
the movies. . . . Gone With the Wind
ruffles, Marie Antoinette bodices, even
Seven Dwarf hats. He said he wanted his
clothes to be influenced by the movies,
too. Kay Proctor tells you about Mr.
Auer's wistful thinking in an hilarious
story "How to be an Easter Egg."

The second most popular program on
the air is Information Please, according
to a poll completed last week. Of course
you have heard the program. And of
course you will be interested in a first
hand report of what goes on in the
studio when one of the movie shorts is
filmed. You'll also have fun answering
Hollywood Magazine's own "Information
Please" Quiz. Watch for it in the April
issue of Hollywood Magazine, on the
stands March 10.

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Ze Brazilian Bomhshel

words,

Carmen Miranda has had
a devastating effect on the
radio, on the stage, and so
appears soon on the screen

B She's been called, among many other
stirring nicknames, the Brazilian
Bombshell, the candied peach from Brazil,
the Brazilian sirocco, and the Brazilian
incendiary. Her real name? Carmen
Miranda.

Carmen sailed from Rio de Janeiro,
Brazil, last May, and so far she has merely
taken New York by storm in a Broad-
way revue called Streets of Paris. Besides
her tremendous personal triumph in the
show, and on the radio, she proved a
definite menace to those inclined to
apoplectic strokes, and she is regarded by
hard-working reporters as "manna from
Heaven" — or at least Rio. But manna at
any rate.

Carmen is, to use her own
"tereefic."

When the Bombshell — then not
yet exploded — sailed from Rio, it
is reported that 500 ardent swains
collected on the pier and sere-
naded her. After seeing her act
in Streets of Paris and convers-
ing with her, via an interpreter,
we have no doubt at all that 500
is a conservative figure.

Right here might, be a very
good place to outline, for the
benefit of those who haven't been
lucky enough to see Streets of
Paris, the manner of Miss Miran-
da's presentation.

Each night, just before the end
of Act I, Carmen Miranda ap-
pears, smiling infectiously and
dressed in a costume that is the
sheerest of delights to the eye.
Over an abbreviated bodice,
really a gold lace brassiere with
ruffles dropped below the shoul-
ers, are piled innumerable
strands of large, violently colored
beads. On her slim wrists are
wide bracelets, some "cuffs" of
filigree gold, others of colorful
beads, and from her ears dangle
huge gold hoops with an ex-
quisite ornament inside each
ring.

To crown this collection of
glittering adornment she wears
a fabulous turban, draped closely

FRED FELDKAMP

about her head. It is velvet in multi-
color harlequin blocks, terminating at
the top in two small baskets filled with
tiny fruits (similar, we're told, to those
carried by fruit vendors in Bahia, of
whom she sings in one of her songs) .

But we've been neglecting one of the
most important parts of her ostentatious
outfit. The skirt that goes with the cos-
tume in question is circular, also velvet,
but in large harlequin blocks, suspended
from a diamond girdle around her mid-
dle, allowing several inches of South
American tummy to peep through.

Her shoes are thick-soled in the ex-
treme. She wears, both on and off
stage, two types — either a gold kid with
a very high platform covered in kid, or
a dark brown alligator affair with a cork
platform in its natural tone.

The over-all effect definitely puts
Joseph and his coat of many colors deep
in the shade.

As soon as the spontaneous applause,
with which audiences evidence their
delighted shock at her first appearance,
fades a little, Ze Bombshell stretches out
her arms, crooks them at the elbow so
that her bracelets are exhibited to their
best advantage, sways her hips ever so
slightly — but ever so effectively — and
rolls her eyes bewitchingly. Although
there are many people onstage during
Carmen's numbers — a full set of chorus
girls, a group of men of the ensemble,
and her Samba band — the stage might
just as well be completely bare for all
the attention they get. Nothing seems
nearly so important as the arc that Miss
Miranda's exotic green eyes are describ-
ing or the way she cocks her head to
one side.

So far as she is concerned, there are
in this wide world only two types of
singing, she explained later. "Canciones
parades o canciones con movimientos" —
standing still, or with gestures. And
which does Miss Miranda prefer? (As
though everyone couldn't tell at a
glance!) "Ohhhhh, con movimientot"
That should give you a rough idea.

Her voice, while she is giving out with
those swift Portuguese lyrics plus her
delightful movimientos, is alternately
husky and sweet, but always full of that
same lilt that suggests tropical moon-

South American Way is the title of

the picture in which Miss Miranda

will do her engaging dances,

sing her riotous songs

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light on a Brazilian beach. The audience
remains enraptured, as she lifts her eye-
brows, crooks her finger, extends a tanned
arms in a graceful sweep, and sings the
lyric with that fetching throaty in-
flection.

Finally she tops off her part of the
proceedings with the tune appropriately
titled "The South American Way." She
sings this in Portuguese also, except for
the recurring title phrase, which she pro-
nounces "the Souse American way."

She claims she intended to say it
S-O-U-T-H, "but my lips they say it
souse, and it make everybody veree
happy."

After taking several bows on that his-
toric first night of Streets of Paris, she
kept repeating "batatas," her eyes shining.
"Batatas," it developed, means potatoes,
and is the Brazilian equivalent for our
expression "It's the berries." She is now
also called "potatoes" by many of her
fans.

Backstage, after her performance, we
crowded through a narrow hallway
jammed with Brazilians — six, as we found
out later. Suddenly we were in the Se-
norita's presence. An interpreter informed
her that we wished to talk with her about
American movies for this magazine.
"Ahhhhhhh," she said with enthusiasm,
arching her eyebrows, grasping our hand
and pressing it warmly.

Miss Miranda speaks but a few words
of English, so one of her accompanists, a
guitarist named Oloysio Oliviera (Joe for
short) acted as "interrupter," as she calls
it.

During the course of our three-cornered
chat, we learned a lot about Miss Miran-
da's likes and dislikes, the former being

in the large majority. When she arrived
in New York her English consisted of
"Yes, no, monee, men." In Brazil, it seems,
the Brazilian men are crazy about Ameri-
can girls. "They take all the men away
from us," Carmen pouted. Brazilian
women don't dislike American girls on
that account, but American men in the
eyes of Brazilian girls — "ohhhhhhhh!"

Brazilian women have the international
situation well tabulated. First they rate
American men ("Teerone Power!" Car-
men says glowingly), next Brazilians,
then Argentines, French, Portuguese and
Spanish. Nort' American men, though,
are definitely the Batatas, for Carmen's
tastes.

American movies she likes "veree much
— ummmmm!" Especially does she enjoy
watching the screen images of Greta
Garbo, Teerone Power, Clark Gobble,
Paul Moonie — and Betti Davis "ummmm!"

Carmen has already made several pic-
tures in Brazil, so she knows what it feels
like to appear before the cameras.

In case you may have gathered that
Miss Miranda started her singing career
on the eventful opening night of Streets
of Paris, we hasten to mention that she's
had a large and fervently loyal following
in Brazil for several years. She's made
hundreds of records, which are bought up
as fast as they're placed on sale, and her
night club appearances in Rio were a
huge success.

She is now busily studying English for
a "nice Professor" between shows, and
her appearances each midnight at the
Sert Room of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.
Her social life is relatively simple — a little
window-shopping on matinee-less after-
noons, and that's about all. After she's

Rosalind Russell and William Powell contribute a little free acting for the
benefit of Loretta Young and Director George Cukor at a Trocadero party

BSS

finished her numbers for the Waldorf
patrons, she's generally "too tired to make
whoops."

■ This Brazilian enchantress had pretty-
tough sledding to get her career
launched. Her family threatened to dis-
own her and wouldn't listen to reason —
they were just dead set against having a
little entertainer in the home. While she
was working as a model she took to sing-
ing to her fellow workers at lunch, and
one day the patron came in while she was
in the middle of a neat cadenza.

"So," he boomed, "you take my girls from
work. Maybe she should go on radio."

Maybe indeed! A kind amigo took her
to the nearest radio station and she sang
a song. By one of those coincidences that
happen only in real life and help make
big careers out of little ones, the manager
of RCA Victor in Rio was listening to her
initial broadcast.

His actions from that point on are quite
understandable. He turned off the rest
of the program, sent an emissary out to
round up this singer, and from then on
Carmen just concentrated on captivating
her listeners.

For three or four months her family
held out, but finally broke down and
decided to be proud of their little girl.
She has taken no lessons either in voice
or gestures. "It is my own creation, this
wonderful way I sing," she explained with
quite proper enthusiasm.

When Lee Shubert signed her to a con-
tract, President Vargas of Brazil began
to worry. He was afraid that she would
liot find the right kind of musical ac-
companiment in the United States. So he
sent along her own six-piece Samba band
■ — guitars, drums, and claves.

She gets a special kick out of being in
New York without a chaperone. "In Souse
America a young girl — a soltera — cannot
travel alone. My mother went with me
when I went to Buenos Aires. Now I am
with six men. Six! And men! But up
here it is — poof, nothing. We are all one
family, no?"

Ze Bombshell is an excellent swimmer
and a first-rate cook. She stands five feet
three ("One meter sixty") and her weight
of 115 pounds she considers "just right."
Her shoes are made by a special bottler
in Brazil, and she is very prodigal in
ordering additional pairs from her friends.
Her hair is not its original shade, she
admits with charming honesty. "It's
darker— I had it dyed."

Convinced finally of her success, she's
still pretty amazed by it all. In fact, she
was fairly sure she wouldn't go over in a
strange country. "In Brazil I do the same
thing," she said in rapid Portuguese. "I
sing the same songs. But everybody
knows what I sing. They comprehend the
language.

"Nobody here knows what I sing. All
they can do is understand from my tone.
From my movement. It was a maravilha!"

Right now she's veree, veree happy. But
after three or four more years of singing,
she'd like to settle down. Almost in the
same breath she added pensively. "Boys
veree nice here. Boys veree nice Brazil.
Everywhere. How to choose?

No Job for Nancy
but a big Job for Mum

:'■••■ ."v.-;:"-1:,

-----mm

Why risk underarm odor — when Mum every day
so surely guards your charm?

SHE TRIES SO HARD — goes everywhere
—but somehow for Nancy it's a brief
"no opening now!" For business is busi-
ness. And it never helps to have a girl
around who neglects to use Mum!

Constant personal daintiness is a busi-
ness asset ... as much in demand as cheer-
fulness, ability, and speed. Why does any
girl risk it? Why don't all girls play safe
with Mum— every single day?

For it's a gamble to depend on a bath
alone to keep you fresh and sweet. A bath
merely removes perspiration that is past
. . . but Mum prevents odor— keeps you
fresh and sweet for the hours to come.

More business girls prefer Mum to any
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And Mum does not stop perspiration.
Get Mum at your druggist's today. Be
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Make a habit of Mum every day.

WHY MUM IS FIRST CHOICE WITH BUSINESS GIRLS

EEPMUM IN
MY DESK, TOO. I
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BECAUSE IT'S
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AND CLOTHING.

to herself:

And nothing beats mum

for lasting charm. just

a dab keeps me

fresh all evening!

.■:<;■

Important to You —

Thousands of women use
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because they know that it's
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MUM

^'*)»SKI.!M*'

Mum

TAKES THE ODOR OUT OF PERSPIRATION

•-

Miss Margaret Biddle,

attractive young
daughter of Mrs.
Henry C. Biddle of ~
Philadelphia, enjoys
one of society's smart
indoor polo matches.

;:'

The younger social set

loves skiing. To Margaret, a x
"spill" is just part of the fun,
and she has a good laugh at
her companion's expense.

After an exciting summer in

Europe, Margaret is now back
in the whirl of sub-deb gaiety.
Season's high spots are exclu-
sive Saturday Evening dances.

BOTH

CHEER THE

SKIN CARE

QUESTION TO MISS BIDDLE:

Miss Biddle, does a girl looking for-
ward to her thrilling debut year take
any special care of her complexion?

ANSWER: "Oh, a good, regular
beauty routine is terribly important!
I use both Pond's Creams every
day of my life — Pond's Cold Cream
to cleanse and soften my skin night
and morning, and freshen it during
the day. It's all wrong to put new
make-up on top of old, so I always
give my skin a good Pond's cleansing
before fresh make-up."

QUESTION: Doesn't an afternoon of
skiing make your skin rough and
difficult to powder?

ANSWER: "No, it really doesn't.
You see, I spread a film of Pond'a
Vanishing Cream over my skin before
going outside — for protection. When
I come in, I use Vanishing Cream
again. It smooths little roughnesses
right away — gives my skin a soft
finish that takes powder divinely!"

Why should Phyllis worry about
General Chemistry and English
themes when Brenchbrook Pond
is frozen over and she got new
hockeys for Christmas?

QUESTION TO MISS BOARMAN:

What does a good complexion mean
to a high-school girl, Miss Boarman?

ANSWER: "It means plenty 1 No
inferiority complex — and loads more
fun I And it's so easy to help keep
your skin in good condition! Pond's
2 Creams seem to be all I need —
Pond's Cold Cream to make my
skin clean and fresh looking,
and Pond's Vanishing Cream to
smooth it for powder."

QUESTION: Miss Boarman, your
make-up looks as fresh as if you
were just starting out for a dance,
instead of just going home!
How do you do it?

ANSWER: "I have a system! Before
even touching a powder puff,
I cleanse and soften my skin with
Pond's Cold Cream. After that,
I smooth on Pond's Vanishing
Cream for make-up foundation.
Then comes powder. It goes on
like velvet and clings for ages!"

With the last strains of "Home
Sweet Home" at the DeMolay
"formal," Phyllis and her date
hurry to be "first come, first
served" at Pal's Cabin.

POND'S, "^^=
» jf~.*"J POND'S.

SEND F°R
TRIAI
BEAUTY

KIT

Name.
StreeL
_£Uv

POND'S, Dept. 6-CVC, Clinton, Conn.
Rush, special tube of Pond's Cold Cream,
- enough for 9 treatments, ' with generous
samples of Pond's Vanishing Cream,
Pond's Liquefying Cream (quicker-melting
cleansing cream) and 5 different shades of
Pond's Face Powder. I enclose lOf! to
cover postage and packing.

Battle
of the Sexes

Mae West and W. C. Fields
eo-starred in My Little Chick-
adee prove that sex is not
only popular, it's funny, too

4 Ca*e./,

By THOMAS XOHD RILEY

M With great bravery, Universal is mak-
ing a picture called My Little Chick-
adee starring a wicked blond lady named
Miss Mae West and a man who will kick
a baby in the slats for a laugh, W. C.
Fields. If My Little Chickadee can sneak
through the Hays office without having
its innuendoes clipped, the public is in
for some hilarity and wild laughter.

This picture is what is coyly known as
a super-western and it is replete in scenes
calculated to give Mr. Hays and Mr.
Breen harrowing existences. Men sneak
in and out of the blond lady's bedroom,
there is a bogus marriage, a song about
man chased by women for the gold in his
teeth, Indian fights, and a mob that has
its mind set on lynching Mr. Fields for
card-sharping.

The Hays establishment has okayed the
script, but it is going to look a nervous
breakdown in the face just the same,
mostly because there is no telling about
this blond lady. She is a problem, this
lady is. What she's got won't go into
scripts. She has the most eloquent gait
in the animal kingdom. When this lady
walks, scripts burn. Besides that, she has
a voice that overwhelms description. Once
she read over the air a sweet, innocent-
looking script passed by radio censors,
and when she finished with it the radio

"To the ladies!" W. C. Fields
raises the root-beer in salute

*"«' 21***" ftk ^^^
eet » all

audience thought they had tuned in on
an Elk's smoker. When it comes to say-
ing words the way they shouldn't be said,
this lady is just plain breath-taking.

And Mr. Fields, whose nose, like the
Dionnes and the Rainbow Bridge, is famed
natural phenomena, is no slouch either
when it comes to scripts. Mr. Fields
ignores them. He is the world's most incor-
rigible ad libber. It is said that looney-
bins are bursting with men who have
tried to write scripts for Mr. Fields.

The plot of the picture, arranged espec-
ially to present both stars at their best, is
the work of [Continued on page 52]

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BRENDAd JOYCE

HENRY STEPHENSON
FRITZ FEID

■"•"•"P- Ploy by Ride Jota^y,^

\!'

j*w »

Spectacular entertainment from the producer and director of "In Old Chicago ,
"Alexander's Ragtime Band", "Stanley and Livingstone", "Jesse James" !

She M

■ The tall, thin young manager of The
Snark, the second moving picture
theatre in the little town of Independence,
Kansas, was worried. His competitor was
drawing most of the town's limited au->-
dience.

It couldn't be because his rival's films
were superior. Both theatres played
about the same run of shows. Nor were
his seats more comfortable, or his prices
more moderate.

It must be, the manager of The Snark.
decided, his rival's wife, who sang senti-
mental songs between reels. Ergo, what
The Snark needed was a singer. And if

venture

The story Of ©sa Johnson,
Kansas country girl who
made the whole wide world
her home town in a life
packed full of adventures

By WILBUR MORSE, JR.

house fare, journeyed to Chanute to in-
vestigate the enthusiastic reports about
the chorister-cook. Sunday afternoon he
married her. Monday night business at
The Snark was doubled and its manager
sat down to the best meal he had eaten
since Jack London treated him to dinner
at the San Francisco Palace.

Thus, twenty-nine years ago, began in
what might appear a somewhat unro-
mantic fashion, the partnership of Martin
and Osa Johnson, who for the next
quarter of a [Continued on page 46]

The Svark's manager, in adding a
headliner to his house, also acquired
a wife for his home, well, it was all
in the interests of his career.

He would, he mused, look for a
singer who could also cook!

In the nearby town of Chanute
there lived, friends told him, a pretty
sixteen-year-old girl, with soft brown
eyes, a trim figure, a radiant smile
and a voice that was increasing at-
tendance weekly at the Methodist
Church, where she sang in the choir.
Incidentally, her strawberry shortcake
was rumored to be a Kansas epicurean's
idea of elegance in edibles.

On a Friday afternoon, the twenty-six-
year-old bachelor showman, dissatisfied
with both his boxoffice and his boarding

»■•■,

The friendly little honey bear is
One of her most attractive toys

How To Do

Spring-Cleaning

The suave, dashing Mr. Rathbone. idol of
a million matinee goers, has another side
which he proved none too conclusively when
he claimed that spring-cleaning is simple
if only you know how to organize your efforts

By KAY PROCTOR

B Heaven knows I am a patient woman,
even under extraordinary conditions,
but when life, liberty and the pursuit of
a nominal check forces me to go termite
hunting in broom closets and prowling
around chimney pots in search of the
elusive myotis sublatus (bats to you)
I say, well really!

Perhaps I had better start at the begin-
ning. . . .

I decided to call on Basil Rathbone,
which I've always considered one of the
more delightful pastimes in Hollywood on
account of he is one of my favorite people
and I like his tea and toasted crumpets.

— Fawcett photos by Charles Rhodes

In a merry frame of mind I whanged the
iron knocker of his home which sits on
a hill overlooking the sixth hole of a
swank golf club.

Something lean and tall opened the
door. I knew at once it wasn't the butler
(I catch on quick that way!) because it
wore a white cap which said "Simpson's

Right, handsome Mr. Rathbone greets
Miss Proctor in strange garb which, at
first, she considered just a gay masque-
rade. The star looks nothing like this in
Tower of London or in Destiny

Spring-cleaning is really
simple, insists Rathbone

All you need is some
thought and a plan

Like piling all of the
furniture in one place

■'

Do not forget the
beauties of nature

Elmer Athenous and H. A.
Kerruish need convincing

"Do it my way or your
Rathbone trusts his luck

)oirt be discourage
by expert criticisJ

Paints Are Better Paints" in red letters
on the visor. Moreover, it was wearing
a striped English four-in-hand, the latest
style Mexican huraches, a pale tan shirt,
and white denim overalls which hit its
legs amidship knee and ankle. A harassed
look around the eyes and a wide paint
brush in the left hand completed the puz-
zling picture.

"Hello!" it said heartily. "So nice of
you to come. Pop in the library and I'll
be with you in a minute. I've got to
see a man about a wall."

That sort of thing is bound to come out
in Hollywood sooner or later so I might
as well admit right off that the peculiar
spectacle turned out to be Basil himself.
It really is amazing, the things that can
happen out here. Don't ask me why, be-
cause I only work here.

Some inner voice warned me to take
a powder then and there. My good fairy,
probably. Unfortunately I didn't. I
walked into the library.

Now I honestly can say I have seen
everything.

. Two gents, whom I later learned were
named Elmer and H.A., were doing a
balancing act with a pine plank 15 feet
long. They were extremely solemn about
it. Sitting militantly in a straight-backed
antique was a woman with a mixing bowl
full of batter in her lap. She said it was
angel food and her name was Bessie. Near
her stood Nellie, the maid, nervously
wringing her hands while near-by was
Tom, the Japanese houseboy, giving an
excellent imitation of something whipped

up by Gutzon Borglum in an off-moment.
Placidly ensconced on the davenport fac-
ing the fireplace was a Woman in White,
absorbed in the inspection of a baby's
nursing bottle.

The silence in the room was deafening.
Finally I could stand it no longer.

"What gives?" I asked pleasantly.

Nobody troubled themselves to answer
except Bessie who let out as vitriolic a
sniff as ever I've heard.

"How about a game of rummy?" I per-
sisted. I really didn't want to play but I
thought it was the friendly thing to do.

Another sniff from Bessie. I was get-
ting desperate.

"I'll wrestle anybody in the house for a
quarter," I volunteered. No answer. "No
holds barred," I coaxed. That brought a
gleam of interest from Elmer until H. A.
pointed out in a surly tone that he couldn't
hold that blankety blank board by him-
self.

"A pox on you all, then," I finally ex-
ploded. "I'm going home."

Just then Basil burst through the door.
Around his neck was a snake-like coil of
webbed tubing. In one hand he carried
a weird assortment of brushes, blowers,
etc., and in the other a vacuum cleaner.
He fairly was exuding Purpose.

I grabbed the well known bull by the
horns. "Basil," I demanded, "what in the
name of St. George is going on around
here?"

"Why, darling\" he beamed at me,
"didn't I tell you? We're doing the spring
house-cleaning!" [Continued on page 44]

And don't let it stop
your regular routine

A preparatory course
at M. I. T. is useful

If you get tired, try
checkers with the soap

And follow through
on everything you do

nd aim high
t the start

Yott always can
change your mind

Remember you have
to live in the house

Nothing like the joy
of a job well done

And nothing like the
joy of just giving up

Do not forget the
beauties of nature

Elmer Athenous and H. A
Kerruish need convincing

"Do it my way or yours!"
Rathbone trusts his luck

Don't be discourage
by expert criticfci

How To Do

Spring-Cleaning

The h«.v,. d»Hhln« Mr. lUUhbone. idol o»

„ m .n ...n.lnee goer., "»" »"»«^Vh^

whleh he proved none <«o «™*"*v*j££
he claimed <hn« Nprln«.«leanlm< Is »l"«P'e
"| only vou know how to organize your eMortt

ll.y KAY I*

■ Heaven knows I am a patient woman,
even under extraordinary conditions,
but when life, liberty and the pursuit of
a nominal check forces me to go termite
hunting In broom closets and prowling
around chimney pots in search of the
elusive mj/olis lubtottM (bats to you)
I say, well really!

Perhaps 1 had better start at the begin-
ning. ... _ , ,

1 decided to call on Basil Rathbonc,
which I've always considered one of the
more delightful pastimes In Hollywood on
account of he Is one of my favorite people
and I liko his tea and toasted crumpets,

"Hello!" it said heartily. "So nice of
you to come. Pop in the library and I'll
be with you in a minute. I've got to
see a man about a wall."

Some inner voice warned me to take
a powder then and there. My good fairy,
probably. Unfortunately I didn't. I
walked into the library.

Now I honestly can say I have seen
everything.

Two gents, whom I later learned were
named Elmer and H.A., were doing a
balancing act with a pine plank 15 feet
long. They were extremely solemn about
it. Sitting mllitantly in a straight-backed
antique was a woman with a mixing bowl
full of batter in her lap. She said it was
angel food and her name was Bessie. Near
her stood Nellie, the maid, nervously
wringing her hands while near-by was
Tom, the Japanese houseboy, giving an
excellent imitation of something whipped

up by Gutzon Borglum in an off-moment.
Placidly ensconced on the davenport fac-
ing the fireplace was a Woman in White,
absorbed in the inspection of a baby's
nursing bottle.

The silence in the room was deafening
Finally I could stand it no longer.

"What gives?" I asked pleasantly.

Nobody troubled themselves to answer
except Bessie who let out as vitriolic a
sniff as ever I've heard.

"How about a game of rummy?" I per-
sisted. I really didn't want to play but I
thought it was the friendly thing to do.

Another sniff from Bessie. I was get-
ting desperate.

"A pox on you all, then," I finally ex-
ploded. "I'm going home."

I grabbed the well known bull by the
horns. "Basil," I demanded, "what in the
name of St George is going on around
here?"

"Why, darling!" he beamed at me,
"didn't I tell you? We're doing the spring
house-cleaning!" [Continued on page 44]

4 'mT'H'"* """"'" " *ou gcl "re,l« "T Ani' follow through

at M. I. T. is useful checkers with the soap on everything yon do

Nothing like the Joy
of a job well done

And nothing like ihr
joy of Juil giving up

:IT

Patia Power Discusses

My Son— Tyrone

with Jessie Henderson

Tyrone Power's mother is known as
one of the most charming, talented
parents in Hollywood. This story tells
why she is also known as the most
successful mother-in-law in the (own

Above, Tyrone at five
appeared the glass of
fashion to his small
sister, Ann, who cuts a
dashing figure, herself

Left, when he was four,
Tyrone, a speed demon

From Patia Power's album : Tyrone
posing nicely at the age of three

Above, Patia Power

and her son, Tyrone,

check advance notices on his

next film, Dance With the Devil

H "But aren't you worried?" a friend

cried when Patia Power allowed son

Tyrone, just out of high school at 17, to

leave home in search of an actor's career.

"Not a bit," Mrs. Power answered, "I've
had him for 17 years and I think I've
given him the right advice and upbringing
to carry him safely through . . . And if I
haven't, then it's TIME he left home!"

In reality, when you see Tyrone Power
on the screen, you're seeing his mother.
Not that Ty isn't an individual in his own

right, but the fact that he is a definite
individual, traces back largely to Mother
Power. Ty would be the first to say it.
The way she brought him up is the chief
reason for his film success, and for the
success of his marriage.

If you want to know about Tyrone, it's
his mother you should ask, as I did the
other evening. She's an expert on the
subject, an expert who can stand off and
see him from an impersonal viewpoint —
no mean feat for an affectionate maternal
parent. Actress and dramatic coach her-
self, she trained Ty in more than his pro-
fession. She trained him also (during the
long absences on tour of his famous father,
Tyrone, Sr.) in what she considers a still
greater art . . . being himself.

As a mother, Patia Power never tried
to dominate her son. "He wasn't the kind
you could dominate," she said, but the
point is that she never tried. Logically,
she turns out to be the ideal mother-in-
law, for she doesn't try to dominate his
marriage or his home. A successful
Hollywood mother-in-law happens to be
as rare as — well, as a successful mother-
in-law anywhere else. No wonder
daughter-in-law Annabella is among
Patia Power's most enthusiastic friends!

"As a matter of fact, I fell in love with
Annabella before Ty did," Mother Power
confided, eyes sparkling in the firelight,
"my first glimpse of her was on the screen
of a Hollywood theatre where I'd gone to
see her in Wings of tlie Morning. I
stopped right in the aisle.

"People with me whispered, 'Come on' —
but I stood there, murmuring to myself,
An actress!' And I came home and raved
about her. It was her freedom and fresh-
ness, I think, [Continued on page 56]

xxls GRIT in your face powder
robbinq you of your loveliness ?

Unpopularity doesn't just happen! And no You have a testing laboratory right in your What an amazing difference in Lady Esther

one thing takes away from your charm as much
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that gives you a "powdery look" because it con-
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own teeth. Grind your teeth slowly over a
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and your teeth will detect for you the slight-
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Face Powder! This superfine pqwder is free
from all suspicion of coarseness or grit! When
you smooth it on -your face, your skin takes on
a luminous, satiny look ... a new loveliness!

When you make your entrance at a party,
how wonderful to make it confidently! You can
—if you use Lady Esther Face Powder! For no
longer need you be a slave to your powder puff.
Put on Lady Esther Face Powder at 8 o'clock . . .

Try the "Bite Test"! Place a pinch of
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Make sure your teeth are even, then
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Don't be shocked if your teeth find grit!
Now, brush away every trace of this
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and repeat the test with Lady Esther
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never gives you a coarse, flaky, "pow-

And at midnight — after the gayest evening . . . your skin will still look exquisitely lovely!
So today, send for samples of all ten shades of my face powder, at my expense. See for your-
self that this superfine powder contains not a single trace of grit . . . goes on smoothly. And you
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(You can paste this on a penny postcard)

Lady Esther, (53)

7130 West 65th Street, Chicago, 111.
PQUU Please send me FREE AND POST-
llmCC PAID your 10 new shades of face
powder, also a tube of your Pour Purpose
Face Cream.

IJyoulive in Canada, write Lady Esther, Toronto, Ont.

Thomas Mitchell braves the realistically rough
waves in an attempt to save food from the wreck

The Swiss Family Robinson struggles to shore on
a make-shift raft after the storm and the ship-wreck

Swiss Family Robinson

in Hollywood

Life on a desert island, even an air-conditioned
desert island on a Hollywood sound stage, usually
is packed wi I li plenty of excitement and adventure

Tim Holt, Bobby Quillan, Edna Best.
Terry Kilburn, Thomas Mitchell and
Freddie Bartholomew dining on fruits

■ Bqy, it was going to be a
ripsnorter!
You could tell by the way
the jungle darkened to sickly
green around the black waters
of the lagoon. By the way
the pigeons and parrakeets

«v EMILY MORRIS

and monkeys, though well out of range,
fell silent as the sunlight faded. By the
alert look on the man who worked the
lightning, and the hitch that the technician
behind the wind machine gave to his
sleeves.

Director Edward Ludwig nodded. And
WHAM!!

The waters of the lagoon leaped into
billows before a tumultuous gale. Great
palms and tamarinds tossed and groaned
and bent double. Through
torrential rain you could
see Freddie Bartholomew
and Thomas Mitchell, Tim
Holt, Terry Kilburn, and
the rest of the Swiss
Family Robinson, trying
to save various possessions
that whisked from their
grasp.

One of the prop men,
[Continued on page 61]

Terry Kilburn had a well-
equipped zoo to play with

Martha was amazed, but I wasn't
through, "Look," I rushed on
as I opened a Modess pad. "This
is why Modess is softer. It's
made of fluff — entirely different
from layer-type napkins."

Then I poured some water on

Modess' moisture-resistant back-
ing— and proved that not a drop
went through. "See? Modess
means greater safety against ac-
cidents, too," I crowed. Well . . .

I certainly got my reward! Five beautiful shots of Martha, and the nicest little
note: "You can take more pictures any day you want," she wrote. "Believe
me, I never knew what real comfort and peace of mind were till you told me
about Miracle Modess."

TRY IT INOWr

NEW MIRACLE MODESSw,T""MOISTIJRE ZONING"

Back to the Farm

it i<: I II IK IK o \\ \

■ According to the records,
Cagney first broke into pic-
tures in 1930. But off the record,
and confidentially to you, Cagney
was in pictures 'way back in 1915.

This will surprise a lot of people
who thought they knew all about
Cagney. As a matter of fact, it
came as a distinct surprise to me.

Moreover, it even surprised the chap who told me, for he
had not meant to do so.

The truth was that Cagney owed his start in pictures
to a burg known as Brooklyn. Brooklyn? you'll echo, as
I did. What's Brooklyn got to do with it?

Well, you know as well as I do that Cagney was born
on the lower East side of New York, above his father's
handsome saloon at 8th Street and Avenue D in the gas
house district. You and I know
that when he was three months
old, he moved to Yorkville. But

These are the smiles that the
James Cagneys wear for
the joyous return to their
farm at Martha's Vineyard

He spent part of his early
childhood on a farm and that
is why he was never content
until he bought his own land

■"^K

what you and I don't know is that
when Jimmy was eleven, he moved
to Brooklyn.

What's more — and here is some-
thing that none of us knew —
Jimmy had been to Brooklyn be-
fore. He had been there not only
ever now and then during the
winter, fall and spring months,
but all through the summer — for five summers straight —
he had lived there. He used to visit a favorite aunt.

The lady had a house in Brooklyn and the house was
directly opposite the old Vitagraph Studios. They were
making the John Bunny pictures in those days and some
wild and woolly Westerns — yes, in Brooklyn! The Studio
was an easy-going place but it had one strict rule and it
was this: NO ADMITTANCE. The rule was aimed mainly
at the kids in the neighborhood. The studio
cops enforced it to the letter. There was a tall
wall which separated the hallowed grounds of
the studio from the ordinary earth of the street,
and this wall was continually being dusted off
by the studio cops, for here the small boys
gathered, thicker than flies, and like flies, were
swatted right and left.

But a KEEP OFF sign meant COME UP to
Jimmy Cagney and just as often as he was
dusted pff, just so often did he climb back to
a high place on that tall wall. The rule, he
argued, that was meant for the boys of the neigh-
borhood, did not apply to him since he, James
Cagney, was strictly from New York.
In this, his aunt upheld him.
It was better, the lady decided, having him
sitting there than making the rounds of the
neighborhood and breaking all the windows.
And in time, with that tenacity of purpose for
which he is so well-known, Jimmy found him-
self providing background for John Bunnys and
Westerns. Somehow — he knew — he had a
hunch — his inner urge told him — that this was
his world. It started out as a small boy's wish
which the man vitalized and solidified
into being.

So you see, it wasn't in 1930, and a
Warner Brothers' contract that marked
his inception into pictures. The whole
thing started in 1915 when a small boy
wished a big wish at Vitagraph.

And it's not New York either, as is

generally accepted, but Brooklyn that

k played a big part in his life, for when

\ Jimmy was eleven or so, it was to

Brooklyn that the family moved, bag and
baggage.

They leased a farm on the Brooklyn
end of Fresh Pond Road. Here they lived
for a number of years, and here, he con-
fesses, he spent the happiest time of his
childhood.

There was the studio to fascinate him
and there, besides, were swamps galore,
all about the farm, where he could roam
to his heart's content, discovering those
continents which are known to boys only.
Cagney loved Brooklyn, and even long
after the family returned to Yorkville to
live, he went back, again and again, to
spend his summers with his aunt, back
to the peaceful realities of the farm.

■ Today he has success — adulation — big
time — big dough — but he won't let any
of it touch and change the real Cagney.
Each time he feels himself "going Holly-
wood," he packs up his Tuesday tooth-
brush and blows the town.

He goes to Martha's Vineyard where the
folks have their feet on the earth and the
great James is known to the sea-faring
folk simply as Bub, just another guy. Or
he'll clamber aboard his boat, the Martha,
and for hours on end lie under a sky of
stars, all bigger than he and yet, in the
great scheme of things, tiny pin-points in
the Universe.

Somehow, going away from Hollywood
always brings him back to himself, he
says. And being himself in a world of
klieg lights and glamour has not been easy.
It's been a continual struggle. But this is
what has kept him humble. And this
too, is what is making him great.

He's had to conquer not only himself —
but Hollywood, and this was his biggest
ordeal, for Cagney has always hated
Hollywood. It's been hard to forget that
back in 1924, when he was a vaudeville
hoofer, he tried to get extra work. All
his efforts ended in failure. He cooled his
heels in the front offices. His letters of
introduction were returned unopened. He
couldn't get to see anyone of import-
ance. He couldn't get to first base.

He trekked back to New York with his
young wife, playing one-night stands to
pay for their fare and food. He never
forgot that first reception.

In 1929, he played in Maggie the Mag-
nificent, with another young unknown
whose name was Joan Blondell. Both
scored. Both were signed for Penny
Arcade. They scored again. Al Jolson
saw them. He tipped off Warner Brothers.
Warner Brothers signed them up for
Hollywood.

He went with a fat contract in his
pocket. But he wouldn't soften. He
couldn't forget. He vowed he would work
there, but he would never live in Holly-
wood.

Between pictures, he always made a
fast getaway — as far away as possible.

| About three years ago, Cagney told
his wife, Billy, that he was going on a
trip to New England. He was going alone.
He didn't know why. He had to go. He"
found himself in Martha's Vineyard. He
fell in love with the place. But something
else held him to the scene like a band of

'Til be the laughing stock of the town..."

MARY: Oh, Mother, why did that snooty
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it'll be all over town that even my tea
napkins look so gray, they aren't fit to
be seen !

(^T e=*. ens t< ^jSir p=s

MOTHER: Lucky I dropped in, honey. That
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doesn't get things really clean. Come
on— I'll show you how to say goodbye
to tattle-tale gray,

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MOTHERt There! Just hustle home and
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CAUGHT /A/ #/S UA/QERSH/RT /

1 . "Please pardon Theobald," gasps Mrs.
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hours!"

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stopped-up drain."

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parting. "To guard against clogged
drains, use a teaspoonful of Drano
every single night!"

P. S. After the dishes use a teaspoonful of
Drano to guard against clogged drains. Never
over 25^ at grocery, drug, hardware stores.

Drano

CLEANS CLOGGED DRAINS

USE DRANO DAILY

TO KEEP

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Coor. 1S40, The Drackett Co

iron. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't
describe it. All he knew was that he had
been there before.

He sat on a string piece down on the
dock and a strange feeling possessed him.
Everything somehow seemed familiar
here. He couldn't figure it out. He
couldn't analyze his feelings. It was the
same feeling he had had on that tall wall
outside of the Vitagraph Studios. He knew
then that he was going to be in pictures.
He knew now that he had been here be-
fore and that this was his home.

He tried to shake it off. It was silly,
unreal. It had no substance. And yet,
here it was — as plain as his hand before
his eyes. He was here where he had
always wanted to be — and he was here to
buy this place and he had to buy it quickly.

He bought it.

He went back to New York and an-
nounced to his wife that they owned a new
home out at Martha's Vineyard.

Somehow, he felt impelled to see his
mother and tell her the news right away,
too. So he went to Jackson Heights where
his mother lives.

"Where have you been?" his mother
asked him.

"I've been to Martha's Vineyard," he
told her.

"Martha's Vineyard?" she echoed, and
she looked at him with a strange expres-
sion and said: "What in the world were
you doing there?"

"Just bought a place."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"I do," was her cryptic answer. "I guess
I've never told you this before, but your
grandfather used to sail out of there
eighty-five years ago. He was captain
on a whaling boat."

"Oh," said Cagney, "that explains it."

"Explains what?" she wanted to know.

U It was then he told her about the odd
experience he had that day as he sat
on the edge of the dock. He couldn't
analyze his feelings then but what his
mother told him now about his grand-
father explained everything.

The skeptics may scoff at this story, but
here it is and Cagney likes to believe that
his place waited for him for two gene-
rations.

Cagney loves his Vineyard farm above
any other possession on earth. He owns
130 acres there and has an interest in 600

additional acres. But Martha's Vineyard
is very far from Hollywood, so recently he
built himself a home in Coldwater Canyon.
This is the first concession he has made, so
at least, in his heart, he has signed a truce
with Hollywood.

■ Cagney — in real life — is an antithesis
of Cagney on the screen.

On the screen his voice sounds out like
a pistol shot. In real life, he speaks so
softly you can scarcely hear him across
the room.

On the screen, he usually wears flashy
clothes. In real life, he wears simple
grays and blue, modestly cut. At Martha's
Vineyard, he wears boots, corduroys and
heavy flannel shirts and sweaters, with
a cap perched precariously on the tip
top of his head.

On the screen, he is dapper, smooth-
shaven. Off the screen he is always in
need of a haircut.

And believe it or not, this gangster, this
thief, this robber, this sharpshooter on
the screen — can't shoot a tinker's durn
off the screen. As a matter of fact, he's
terrified by fire-arms. He abhors killing
anything.

He owns a yacht but he has yet to go
sailing in it. He can't. He gets seasick.

He's always playing bootleg parts but in
real life he seldom takes a drink, smokes
only on rare occasions and then only when
he is nervous or upset.

He likes serious books, mostly biograph-
ies, and is intensely interested in early
American history. He numbers among
his friends, Dwight Franklin, the great
authority on early Americans.

■ He's been the black sheep at Warners
more than once and yet the Warners

make haste to concede that for fairness in
business deals, first place goes to Mister
Cagney. They cite this latest fair play on
his part:

Cagney signed a contract with Warners
for five pictures to be made within ten
months. The first one of these was Boy
Meets Girl. Although the critics liked it,
the public did not, so Cagney said he
would not count it as one of the five in
the contract.

Warners had never before had an actor
make such a concession so they came
through on their own. Just what did Mr.
Cagney want?

Well, for ten years, he had been wanting
to play John Paul Jones. No one would
take the idea seriously, least of all Warner
Brothers. There was no picture in the
life of John Paul Jones. Cagney insisted
that there was and succeeded in having
it put on his schedule.

Cagney has a hunch that John Paul
Jones will be his best picture to date,
because when his inner voice speaks to
him, it does so with authority. It's spoken
to him before and it will speak to him
again. It's been the secret of his success,
for James Cagney, the great star, is not
the one who's making picture history.
No, it's that small boy sitting on a farm
fence with all the hunger and the vitality
and the reality of a million small boys
everywhere that is projecting itself from
the screen.

Injun Fighting Is Still
Tough Work

[Continued from page 8]

start, they had scoured six States to find
the New England wilderness of 1759. For-
ests still exist in New England, to be sure,
but New England has too much motor
dust and too many summer resorts, mo-
torboats and planes. The area selected was
reached by logging train up a steep canyon
through which foamed the Payette River.
It took 9 hours to climb 125 miles. The
only plane likely to disturb the silence
belonged to Wallace Beery — his ranch
lies 50 miles to the north — but Beery was
busy making a picture in Hollywood.

In this remote spot, surrounded by
fragrant pine and maple woods, the lake
and river crystal blue and green, Brun-
dage Mountain leaping upward 6,500 feet
from lake to turquoise sky — they built two
really enormous sets. The Indian village
of St. Francis and the fort at Crown Point,
N. Y.

Those 10 acres of forest had been cleared
for St. Francis, Indian headquarters from
which raid after murderous raid de-
scended upon the colonial New England
settlements. The felled trees were used
to construct 125 log cabins. In the cabins
were installed, for picture purposes (they
lived between scenes in a town of tents) ,
375 Blackfeet, Nez Perce and Shoshone
Indians brought by bus from various
Northwest reservations.

They had their own make-up depart-
ment, their own make-up specialists. Jack
Dawn, head M-G-M's make-up depart-
ment, frequently lives on Indian reserva-
tions during vacations. It's a hobby with
him. George Macon, assisting l>im, has
made a study of the intricate warpaint
patterns. These two men probably know
more about warpaint than does the aver-
age Indian of today. They had the Indian
contingent out at five o'clock each morn-
ing to check up on markings and on the
shaved heads with the scalp-locks.

"I'm scared of myself!" said one Indian
high school graduate, gazing pensively
into the mirror when George Macon got
through with him.

The capture of St. Francis by Rogers'
Rangers is the high point of excitement
in the film. Roll a dozen pictures into
one, and you won't find a sequence that
makes you grip the arms of your chair
as this does.

■ What leads up to and follows the des-
perate battle is this: Young Langdon
Towne of Kittery, Maine, has been ex-
pelled from Harvard for cartooning the
overseers of the college; he wants to be
an artist, but Rev. Browne, father of Eliz-
abeth, whom Langdon loves, says por-
traits bring in no money and Elizabeth
(played by Ruth Hussey) shall marry no
dauber. Embittered, Towne drops in at
the tavern with a friend and speaks truly
but unwisely against "the better people,"
especially King's Attorney Wyseman
Claggett and Sheriff Packer. Claggett
and Packer overhear him and after the
brawl that ensues, Langdon and his friend,

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Hunk Marriner, a clever woodsman, head
for the forests.

In due course they meet Major Robert
Rogers and his Indian guide, Konkapot
(Andrew Pena) ; and when Langdon and
Hunk recover from the effects of hot but-
tered rum, they find they've joined Rog-
ers' Rangers and are embarking at Crown
Point for St. Francis. Rogers — fearless
and apparently owning a charmed life —
wants Langdon as map maker, and is more
keen about him than ever when he learns
that Langdon knows all the projected
routes for the long-sought Northwest
Passage, the mythical shortcut by water
to India. Rogers dreams of some day find-
ing it.

By boat and on foot the Rangers pro-
ceed for three weeks without fires or hot
food or adequate rest. This heroic feat of
endurance is a matter of American history.
They wade through swamps, and it's a
fact that in the swamps near Payette Lake
a man would sometimes disappear in a
chuck hole and have to be dug out by his
fellow actors — realism with a vengeance!

After incredible hardships, the rem-
nant that survived both privation and In-
dian warfare stumble through the forests
to a rendezvous where supplies of food,

as well as reinforcements, are to be on
hand. But something has gone amiss.
When, more than half dead, they stagger
into the clearing where, according to
agreement, their first good meal in nearly
two months should be waiting, they find
the place empty. The military detach-
ment sent to rescue them has come, and
departed.

It had departed so recently that the
embers of its campfire are still warm, and
the sounds of its departure float back
faintly through the woods. But the
wretched little handful of men are too
weak to follow; too weak to shout. They
would have lain down and died right there
but for the indomitable Rogers. He it is
who digs roots for food; who manages to
make his way down river to a fort, from
which General Amherst sends the sup-
plies that save what's left of the Rangers.

Those who have read the book, North-
west Passage, will realize that the pic-
ture takes in only the first half of the story;
the half which builds up to that epic strug-
gle at St. Francis. M-G-M intended to
put the entire book into the one film, but
when they had reached this point they
saw that they had a picture already, and
a darned exciting one. Rather than anti-

climax it with the search for the North-
west Passage, which takes up the rest of
the novel, they plan now to make a second
picture of the novel's second half.

■ The attack on St. Francis, and the
spectacular burning of the village

come at dark and creepy dawn. The half-
nude bodies of the Indians, the flashing
axes, the fleet motions of the Rangers,
make an eerie sequence against the black
sky in the light of the roaring flames.
From this strange and terrible fight, the
Rangers bring back two white women
captured years before, a girl, Jennie Coit
(Isabel Jewell) , who refuses to desert her
Indian husband, and aged Sarah Haddon
(Helen McKellar) .

For six and a half weeks, Miss Jewell
and Miss McKellar were the only actresses
on location among six or seven hundred
men. Isabel knew that type of country,
and Indians were no novelty, either. Born
across the line in Shoshone, Wyoming,
she went to school with Shoshone Indian
children and often played with them on
the reservation. From her own remark-
able collection of Indian relics, she pro-
vided her costume for Jennie Coit.

■ Rogers was a leader who took no
chances. You should have seen him

(in the person of Spencer Tracy) creep
silently past French and Indian outposts,
wade across shallow bays in winter
weather — br-rrr! — without a splash, to
circle boatloads of the enemy. -More adroit
than the Indians themselves, he made his
forces sleep in tall trees while the foe
combed the ground unavailingly for a
sign of them.

"I'll never sleep again! I couldn't!"
groaned Tracy, rubbing his back after Di-
rector Vidor had placed him in an espe-
cially unyielding tree fork.

"The original Rogers' Rangers had noth-
ing on us," Brennan agreed, working his
shoulder.

"Except," Tracy reminded him, "our
Indians aren't actually trying to kill us."

"Might as well be knocked off by an
arrow," Brennan grunted, "as by falling
out of a tree."

The way Brennan didn't care for trees
was the way the rest of the cast didn't
care for mosquitoes. In the swamp
sequences there were clouds of these in-
sects— "big as buzzards," Bob Young
stoutly maintained — and a howl went up
when Director Vidor announced that in
the film the mosquitoes didn't look like
mosquitoes. Rogers' Rangers plunged
through the sequence again, their hands
and faces coated with oils and unguents
. . . and this time, to augment the gen-
uine pests, there were "doubles" in the
form of powdered cattail rushes!

Soon after this strenuous experience,
Spencer Tracy got spilled into the river
when they broke the improvised dam. He
disappeared from sight in the turmoil of
rough water, and gave everybody an anx-
ious half minute.

Not to be outdone, Bob Young fell in
again. They were forming a human chain,
clasping hands in a long line across the
river, before attacking an Indian position,
and the river was so cold that they had to

come out and change uniforms every ten
minutes. But the moment they got into a
nice, dry, warm uniform, it was discov-
ered that, for a close-up, Young had to be
wet clear to the neck. He meant to do no
more than duck gingerly in the edge of the
stream, but his feet were swept from un-
der him and he was carried 100 yards down
river before the lifeguards reached him.
"Right now, I take a vow never to get
even a fingernail wet again!" he declared
when the water stuff was over. But Fate
was far from through with him. They had
some boat races on Sunday — not for the
film, just for fun. They let Bob pick his
own crew. He chose such people as Frank
Hagney, formerly world champion in the
single sculls, and Fred Zendahr, twice
Olympic champion breast-stroke swim-
mer. Bob's boat won. So his dear, gentle,
sympathetic fellow-workers tossed him
into the lake.

■ The first scene they took on location
will probably be the most colorful
(that is, in actual colors), and the last
scene the most miraculous. The first scene
was the embarkation at Crown Point,
N. Y., with Payette Lake doing duty as
Lake Champlain. As a building job, this
was the greatest of all. The fort, con-
structed from the original plans, was 300
feet across the front, 400 feet long on the
sides, 40 feet high. It took 110,000 feet of
lumber. Again it was necessary to clear
the forest, blast out rock, haul in dirt to
cover the rocks again. Some 240 mem-
bers of the Idaho State Militia played the
British troops, in fine red coats.

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came up and it rained. They wanted sun-
shine sjiots, and the sun came out. They
found they needed long shots in the rain
and (don't stop me) the clouds came back
and it rained again!

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On Safari in Hollywood

Tullio Carminati, Madeleine Carroll, Lynne Overman and
Douglas Fairbanks in one of the exciting moments in Safari
when the cannibal chieftain begins to feel the pangs of hunger

Our favorite extra discovers that the life
of a savage is not all dancing around camp-
fires and sleeping late in the morning, so he
decides to stay in Hollywood for a while

By E. J. (Tom Tom) SMITIfSOX

DEAR EDITOR:

Well, I knew something would happen
to me if I got too hungry for money and
took on another extra job without first
taking a few days' rest to get rid of the
dust I swallowed as an Okie in 20th
Century-Fox's The Grapes of Wrath.

At the time it seemed as though I had
a fairly good reason for picking up some
extra change without waiting to dig the
dirt out of my ears. The pretty blonde
who works the Central Casting Office
switchboard had a birthday coming, and
I figured I better get to work and turn in
the jack on a nice present for her. More
than once she'd tipped me off to some good
jobs and I wanted to pay her back.

That was why, mainly, I scooted over to
Paramount without waiting for my last
"Grapes" paycheck when I learned that
Edward H. Griffith was ready to shoot the
opening sequences in Safari, an African
jungle picture starring Madeleine Carroll,
Douglas Fairbanks, Muriel Angelus
(she came to Hollywood from Lon-
don to play opposite Ronald Colman

in The Light that Failed) Lynne Overman,
and Billy (The Big Sneeze) Gilbert.

The first man I see at Paramount is
Terry DeLapp, the studio's demon pub-
licity man. I tell him what I want, and,
in less footage than it takes to register a
movie kiss, I am in the make-up depart-
ment along with a couple of hundred
other extras. A trio of burly guys order
us to disrobe to practically strip tease
specifications and when we're down to our
last "G-String" they smear us with black
make-up paint. When that's finished they
give us feathered headpieces and about
twenty pounds of brass ornaments to wear.
When we're all dollied up we're herded
into studio trucks and wheeled out to
Sherwood Forest, a location site about
40 miles from the studio. Believe you me,
by the time we got there those brass
ornaments, bouncing with every bounce of
the trucks, had given the skins on our
shins a burn hotter than an actor gets
when he reads a poor notice in the re-
views.

Once we got there, we were taken in

tow by — you'd never guess in a million
years, so hep me! — Prince Modupe, an
Oxford-educated son of the ruler of the
powerful Euroba tribe which occupies
most of the British and French Guinea in
West Africa!

The Prince, in addition to playing the
full length part in the film, also served as
technical advisor on all the native African
sequences. While the grips, electricians,
sound men, cameramen, carpenters and
other laborers were getting the set-up
in shape to shoot, the Prince took us aside
and instructed us in the art of going
native. It was as simple as falling for
a, cute blonde the way he explained it! All
we had to do was to squat on our heels in
the man-made jungle and keep moanin'
low while the scene was being shot. Well,
that was easy for me because I'm moanin'
low most of the time according to the girl
at Central Casting. Everything was going
along swell as we went native, and then
Old Man Bad Luck picked me by the
scruff of the neck and sat me down be-
hind one of the dozen African drums the
Prince said should go boom-boom as back-
ground music for the shot.

The Prince showed us how to slap 'em
with the palms of our hands, and we put
in half an hour of practice just to be sure
that we had the hang of the peculiar
rhythm. It looked like a mighty easy
way to earn that birthday gift money,
spanking the top-side of a drum, and I
was hoping it would keep up for a week,

The baby giant Panda stopped by for a
visit with Douglas Fairbanks and Muriel
Angelus on the Safari set, and seems
to be looking with longing at the animals
who got a chance to work in the picture

but I certainly changed my mind right
after the shooting started.

Believe it or not, just as you like, but I
suffered sprains in both wrists from beat-
ing my tom-tom! Which should put me
in a class by myself among the ten thou-
sand Hollywood extras. At any rate,
when noon and the box lunches arrived
my arms, from fingertips to shoulder
sockets, were so sore I couldn't raise 'em
to scratch the back of my dirty black
neck!

Now it just occurred to me that you
may wonder why I haven't mentioned

Madeleine Carroll, Doug Fairbanks and
the rest of the principals thus far in my
report of the shooting. Well, the reason
why I haven't is because they weren't
there. Not a single one of them. All
Director Griffith was filming on this par-
ticular day was us jungleers squatting on
our heels back a ways in the jungle and a
zebra at a water hole! And just one zebra
at that! Which may explain why movies
cost so much today. This zebra, by the
way, surely was a prima donna if there
ever was one in the animal kingdom!
He — or she — just didn't want to be seen
at the water hole. Coaxing, shoving, pull-
ing and even whipping failed to do much
good. Director Griffith finally blamed us
drug store natives for the animal's tem-
peramental didos. He said the zebra didn't
like our smell! True or not, the shot
wasn't okayed until four that afternoon!
On the way back to the studio I got to
chinning with Prince Modupe — the first
and only prince, in case you're interested,
that I ever met up with. And a nice
sociable fellow he turned out to be. He
came to the United States, so he said, to
gather material for a book in which he
traced the origin of the American Negro
spirituals back to their beginnings in Af-
rica. Later, he said, he became inter-
ested in motion pictures. He's been living
in Hollywood for the past two years.
Although in line for the throne, he plans
to abdicate, he said, so that he can devote
himself entirely to gathering knowledge

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which will enable him to return to Africa
and "improve my people."

"Anyway," he went on, "I don't expect
to inherit soon. My father is now 72, but
my grandfather lived to be 103 and my
grandmother 102."

Director Griffith, I learned later, had
given the Prince free rein in providing
native music, costumes and so on and
the jungle sets you'll see in the picture
will be authentic in every sense of the
word. The only phonies are us colored
folk fresh from the Hollywood drug
stores. But Prince Modupe seemed to be
satisfied with our masquerade and we
hope movie patrons will be, too. .

During lunch that day, a farmer drove a
herd of cows across a near-by road.
Everybody stopped munching their sand-
wiches and watched in silence until a prop
man got a laugh with: "Hey, lookit!
Cecil B. DeMille and his company — lost
again!"

B Came the dawn of the second day's
shooting and your tom-toming extra
was being carted out to a jungle village
built on the edge of Baldwin Lake, a
beauty spot on Rancho Santa Anita.

The scene to be filmed that day called
for a 70-foot paddle-wheeler to arrive at
the landing dock, a bit of simple shooting
that even a third assistant director could
have canned without turning a hair if
everything had gone according to Hoyle
— which it didn't.

On board the boat were Madeleine
Carroll, (I think she's the handsomest gal
in Hollywood!) Doug Fairbanks, Tullio
Carminati, Lynne Overman and two score
of us natives, feathered and brassed up
as of the day before. With the cameras
all set to grind, the boat backed into the
lake for its three-minute run to the dock,
but before it could go forward a foot it
listed badly to one side and sank like a
rock. Fortunately the lake was quite
shallow and there was little danger to any
fairly capable swimmer, but believe me,
commotion reigned supreme for quite a
spell. Director Griffith, Actress Muriel
Angelus, Cameraman Ted Tetzlaff and the
rest of his crew, along with those extras
not working, leaped into native canoes
and paddled Billy-be-darned to the
rescue of those of us who were flounder-
ing about in the water. In their eagerness
to help, some of the rescuers tipped over
their canoes, and had to be rescued them-
selves, but finally, all got ashore that was
going ashore. After being wrapped up
in blankets for an hour we went to work
in the jungle village. The boat was
brought to the surface by a night crew
and was ready for a retake two days later.

We spent the rest of the day milling
around the village for a scene showing
the preparations of a safari (journey to
you) into the interior of the jungle and
what a time we had. Right off the bat
Director Griffith gets a three-inch gash
across his forehead from bumping into
a camera boom, Madeleine Carroll backs
up against some apis mellifera (honey
bees) , gets herself stung and lets out a
shriek that sets Nissa, the leopard, to
howling and the fourteen elephants to
trumpeting.

Strangely enough, Director Griffith
seems happy about what's going on. He's
assured now, he says, of the picture's box
office success! By a curious coincidence,
each time something happens to a member
of his troupe, or to himself while shooting
a film, the picture turns out to be a big
grosser. Erline Rogers, his secretary, was
struck by an automobile during the shoot-
ing of Honeymoon in Bali. Fred Mac-
Murray suffered a wrenched knee while
making Cafe Society.

Nissa, the leopard, deserves a special
paragraph.

Whenever any studio has a picture call-
ing for a leopard it's Nissa who gets the
job. A beautiful animal is Nissa, but she's
certainly got a peculiar mind and a stub-
born will.

Believe it or not, she pulled a sit-down
strike on us that afternoon and positively
refused to work with the actors until she
was sprinkled — and liberally — with, of all
things, perfume! Yes, ma'am, that's the
truth, so help me, and I saw a prop boy
squirt half a bottle of gardenia perfume
over the spotted hide of that there animal!
And another funny thing about the whole
business. Nissa won't stand for any of this
five-and-ten-cent counter perfume. Not
Nissa! A whiff of cheap stuff sends her
right into her best jungle tantrums.

So that Nissa would remain in good
humor the prop boy, under instructions
from Director Griffith, doused Madeleine
and Doug with Gardenia, too, and the
place was the sweetest smelling location
site I ever worked on! "The only trouble
with Nissa," so her trainer told me, "is
that only recently she has discovered
Christmas Night perfume. She seems to
like that better — and you know what that
costs!"

But it wasn't only Nissa who gave us
some bad moments that afternoon. Those
fourteen elephants were mighty peevish,
too, if their dismal trumpeting meant any-
thing, which it did, according to the men
who bossed them around. Most likely
they had a reason considering that on
their fourteen mammoth heads hung four-
teen pairs of ears that didn't belong to
them! You see these were elephants from
India, and India elephants have much
smaller ears than African elephants so
Director Griffith, stickler for detail that
he is, had the property department make
huge, flapping ears, some six feet across,
and fasten them to the heads of the ele-
phants from India. They looked okay to
the camera, but not to the elephants.
Finally, though, they went through their
paces like old-time troupers and Director
Griffith managed to okay three shots
before quitting time.

| Before the next morning's shooting
started, Old Man Bad Luck made an-
other appearance and Director Griffith
grinned from ear to ear. Muriel Angelus'
dressing room suddenly burst into flames
and burned to the ground along with all
her costumes before the fire could be
extinguished. Being Eddie on the spot,
I made a grab for a fire extinguisher,
shook it loose from its bracket, but I
couldn't hold onto it, being somewhat
excited, and the darn thing bounced off

the head of Tullio Carminati who started
yelling bloody murder in his best Italian
with all the improper gestures. I made
a bee-line for the interior of the jungle
where I stayed until the doctor had
patched him up. Tullio wasn't very
friendly to me after that, and maybe I
shouldn't blame him. Madeleine got quite
a kick out of the ruckus. At any rate,
every time she'd see me from then on she'd
call me "Old Fire Chief."

So far as the shooting went that day,
nothing much happened except we kept
traveling through the jungle, dodging
elephant feet, brambles, vines, and warlike
natives. The luggage I was toting on my
back got heavy along toward the close of
the day and I managed to acquire a few
rope burns, but they were nothing to brag
about.

Billy Gilbert, who has a featured role
in the picture gave us a laugh that after-
noon. Billy, reputed to be the film
colony's most explosive sneezer, showed
us a letter he had received from a drug
concern in the mid-west offering him a
positive cure for his affliction.

"This," announced the letter, "will
surely stop your sneezing if you take it."

"And if I take it," Billy grinned, "I'll
probably quit eating, too."

Billy, the rotund man of a thousand
dialects and ten thousand sneezes, plays
the role of a cafe owner in an African
trading village and plays it to the hilt.
It's the best role he's had for months and
he does a bang-up job.

Judith Anderson, distinguished stage
star, plays the important role of the
grim housekeeper in Rebecca, soon to
be seen with Joan Fontaine and Law-
rence Olivier in the leading roles

I rode home that afternoon with Muriel
Angelus, as pretty and as nice an English
girl who ever came to these parts. Muriel

wasn't so much interested in Safari on the
ride back as she was in her efforts to
discover a submarine-less route to
England. Not that she was planning to
return to the British Isles, but she said
she was gathering together a quantity of
gifts, clothing and material for English
orphans and she was determined that the
packages arrive safely.

"With England at war," she said sadly,
"I'm afraid there won't be much time for
anyone to think of the little youngsters
who are in institutions, or who have been
evacuated from London. I've got some
things together, and some of my friends
have donated more, and now we want to
be sure they get there safely."

The best route, she said, tracing it on a
huge map she pulled out of a car pocket,
was to ship the boxes from Hollywood to
Australia, thence through the Indian
Ocean, the Red Sea and the Mediterranean
to France, then by rail to the English
channel, and from there to England by
air!

We've wondered many times since, in
view of the numerous torpedo sinkings
by German craft, if those packages ever
arrived. We hope so.

Well, this is Safaris I'm going to go,
except to tell you that the blond cutie
at Central Casting was pleased with her
birthday present. So pleased that she
got me another job down at the Edward
Small Production Studio where My Son,
My Son is soon to be filmed, and I'll tell
you about that next month.

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I GIVE ORIGINAL HAIR COLOR

A glowing skin is a great factor
in the beauty of Hedy Lamarr,
soon to be seen in / Take This
Woman. The routines de-
scribed on these pages will
help give you skin loveliness

By ANN VERNON

FARR'S FOR GRAY HAIR

| My mail bag contains more questions
about skin care than any other beauty
problem. There's something so plaguing
and so puzzling about skin trouble that it
causes thousands of unhappy girls each
year to take pen in hand and ask for
advice on how to correct it . . . Just in case
some of you are worrying about the same
sort of thing, here are some typical ques-
tions— and answers. If the answers don't
solve your particular problem, just write
me a letter, and I'll be glad to advise you
personally.

Q. My skin is very dry and it chaps in
cold weather. Whenever I use soap, my
face feels taut and irri-
tated, and because the
skin is so dry, my make-
up always flies away.

A. You must see that
your skin gets plenty of
stimulation, lubrication
and protection from ex-
tremes of heat and cold.
And your skin cleans-
ing routine should in-
clude soap and water
cleansing as well as

HOW DO YOU MEASURE UP?

Our free booklet gives you
advice on girdles and exercises
to make your figure perfect.
Send a stamped, self-addressed
envelope for it to Ann Vernon,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine, 1501
Broadway, New York. Ask about
your special beauty problems
at the same time. Miss Vernon
will be glad to help you.

cream. You need soap and water because
of the stimulating effect. The use of warm
water, the friction of scrubbing with brush
or wash cloth, and the final rinsing in cold
water always step up the circulation, bring
fresh supplies of blood to the tiny blood
vessels just under the surface of the skin.
And that helps materially to normalize the
skin functions and correct the dryness.
Use a good bland soap, and after you have
dried your skin thoroughly (leaving it
semi-damp will only add to your
troubles), smooth on a tiny bit of cream
to take away any feeling of tautness, and
to act as a lubricant
at night or a daytime
powder base . . .

There are three new
products on the market
that will be a great help
to you in overcoming
your annoyingly dry
skin. They all contain
lanolin, one of the de-
rivatives of wool fat, a
skin lubricant that
closely resembles the

oils in the human skin . . . The soap is
superfatted, so that it cannot possibly irri-
tate the tenderest dry skin. There's a
lanolin cleansing cream that is a delight
to use, and a pure lanolin lubricant as
well. If your skin is rather dry, you'll
find the lanolin cleansing cream will also
make a grand lubricant or a powder base;
but if it is excessively so, you'll want to
use the pure lanolin cream. These prod-
ucts are inexpensive — about 12 and a half
cents a cake for the soap, and 59 cents for
the cleansing cream. There's a 25 cent
tube of the pure lanolin, as well as 59
cent and one dollar jars.

Q. My skin is so oily that my make-up
gets gummy, and I can't keep my skin free
from blackheads. What shall I do?

A. Your best cue is to scrub your face
two or three times a day with soap and
water and a complexion brush — and to go
very lightly on make-up. The action of a
firm bristled complexion brush and plenty
of soap suds will tend to normalize the oil
output, remove all the excess oil from the
skin and keep your pores from enlarging
and becoming clogged with solidified facial
oil. In addition to this cleansing routine,
use plenty of mild astringent on your skin,
especially on the oiliest sections before
applying your make-up, and always after
using a cream or oily lotion for skin-
softening purposes. Blotting off excess oil
with tissues will also keep your make-up
looking fresh longer . . . You will find the
cake type of make-up ideal for your skin

.... and I can recommend a fine new one
just on the market. It looks like compact
powder, and comes in several shades in
round, flat tins. You moisten a sponge or
clean cotton in water, rub it over the cake,
then spread a film of the make-up on your
skin. It goes on so easily and provides
the dull, smooth finish you want. If you
wish, you can dust a tiny bit of matching
face powder over it, but for oily skinned
girls, it provides adequate make-up alone,
and doesn't require re-doing for hours.
Comes in Peach, Rachelle and Brunette
and costs a dime.

Q. I have that worst of all beauty
problems — pimple's. Sometimes my skin
clears up temporarily, but not for long.
My forehead, chin and cheeks break out
most.

A. It is difficult to tell from a written
description where "occasional pimples"
end and where acne begins . . . That is why
I urge you to consult a doctor — preferably
a skin specialist who can tell you how
serious your condition is, and suggest the
proper treatment. For acne is a very seri-
ous disease and one that should never be
neglected. People are too prone to say,
of 'teen age girls — "Oh, she'll outgrow
those pimples. They're nothing to worry
about." That is the kind of attitude that
causes permanently scarred faces. So if
your pimples are more frequent and wide-
spread than the occasional one that comes
from eating rich foods, off to the doctor,

please! Of course you should always be
extra careful about cleansing your skin
and keeping it clean. Using soap and
water three or four times a day is not too
often for a blemished skin — and be sure to
have everything that comes in contact
with it fresh and clean. Soiled powder
puffs or towels can re- infect a pimple that
is about healed, or help to start one. And
don't use too much make-up. The tend-
ency to apply more make-up over old is
responsible for many a blemished face.

Your diet should be carefully watched,
too. Include lots of fresh fruits, vege-
tables, milk and water — but stay away
from fat meats, gravies and rich sweets —
and be sure to keep yourself clean intern-
ally. All these things have a bearing on
the condition of your skin. You will find
a good healing lotion a big help — in addi-
tion to all these precautions. May I sug-
gest one that we have tested and found
excellent? It is a milky looking liquid
that is simple and pleasant to use. You
saturate clean pieces of cotton with the
lotion and pat it on the skin. Let it dry,
and then with clean dry fingers, rub the
powdery film into the blemished skin.
Leave it on during the day if you can,
and all night — but be sure to cleanse your
face with soap and water before making
another application. If, after a few days,
your skin begins to feel taut, there is a
softening ointment that you can apply to
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A word of warning about shampooing
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are caused by dirt and waste matter on the
hair and scalp ... So be sure to wash your
hair at least once a week — and oftener if
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Write to me before March 1 5th
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the products mentioned in this
article. Be sure to send a stamped
(U. S. postage, please) self-
addressed envelope to Ann Ver-
non, HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway, New York, for
your reply.

How To Do Spring-Cleaning

[Continued from page 27]

"But it's only January!" I remonstrated.

"I know it," he said calmly. "That's part
of my system."

Bessie sniffed audibly and Basil said,
"Bessie, that will do. We've all got to
pull together on this thing ..."

"Or you'll all hang separately," I
finished it for him. "Mister Rathbone,
answer me one thing. Where is your
wife?" I was very chilly about it.

"Ouida?" he chirruped. "Oh, Ouida's in
New York. Shopping, you know."

"And you're doing this as a little home-
coming surprise for her?" I ventured.

"Well, yes and no," he answered. "Ouida
will be pleased, of course, but mostly I
wanted to prove a certain contention of
mine based on years of observation.
Scientific research, you might call it."

His face took on a stern expression. "I
have maintained for a long time that
women made entirely too much fuss about
this spring house -cleaning thing," he pro-
nounced. "They get themselves and every
inmate of the house in a frightful lather
over nothing at all. They upset routine
Unnecessarily. They exhaust themselves
over trivialities, and for one solid week
they make a man's life a nightmare of
eating pick-me-up meals in the kitchen,
slipping on cakes of soap left in dark
hallways, and dodging frantically be-
tween denuded windows while trying to
put on his pants with some semblance of
gentlemanly modesty. I believe," he said
pontifically, "it is a simple question of
organization and am about to prove it!"

"You're bats!" I said elegantly. It was,
I am afraid, an unfortunate choice of
words for he nodded enthusiastically, said
it was an excellent idea, and promptly
made a note of it in his little black book.
"You know, of course, that the correct
name is Myotis Sublatus and you find
them in chimneys just before Christmas,"
he observed.

"Find what?" I asked.

"Bats," he said simply. "We'll attend
to them as soon as we get the downstairs
washed up. Should be great sport."

"It's open season on termites, too," I
said in what I thought was withering
sarcasm. His face lighted up.

"It is?" he said joyfully. "That's wonder-

ful!" Again he made an entry in the
black book. "We'll choose up sides and
the first one to bag the limit gets to be a
sergeant. No, by jove, we'll make it a
lieutenant!"

■ The next few hours remain a pot
pourri of blurred impressions like the
time I had my tonsils out under ether. I
distinctly remember the deadly self con-
trol with which Basil attacked the assem-
bly of the vacuum cleaner attachments
and whipped it to a standstill. I remember
him balancing the telephone on his
shoulder while vehemently denying to
Jimmie Fidler that Ouida's trip to New
York had any phfft significance. (As far
as I could make out he was proving it
wasn't necessary to stop whatever you
were doing just because the telephone
rang. Organization, that's all. Jimmie
apparently could make out even less be-
cause the next day he wrote a full account
of the new laboratory Basil had installed
in his home to experiment with atom
smashing.) And I remember1 a hideous
interlude called "Guess Where." We
played it with the formal drawing room
furniture, and Basil claimed it proved
women scattered their energy.

"The average woman displays an in-
credible lack of imagination and coordi-
nation when she wants to rearrange the
furniture in any given room," he stated.
"She overlaps herself, if you know what
I mean. For instance, she wants the white
chair where the gold chair has been
standing. So she moves the white chair
to where the gold chair is. That means
she has to move the gold chair somewhere
else. She thereupon puts it where the
ultramarine davenport was placed. In
turn, the davenport has to be moved to
where the piano stands. Then the piano
has to be moved. Before she knows it,
she is right back where she started from
with everything in its original place. A
vicious circle of futility!"

His system, he maintained, was in-
finitely simpler. Just pile everything in
the center of the room and work from the
inside out. Then if the white chair
doesn't look well where the gold chajr
was, all you have to do is move it back

to the middle pile and start over again.
It might have worked if he hadn't made
that one teentsy weentsy mistake about
the piano. Somehow it got on top of the
pile instead of on the bottom. But, as he
said when we left the room in the status
quo (i. e. everything in the middle with
the piano on top) , Ouida probably would
prefer to make her own decision about it
anyway.

■ We tackled the upstairs next and
there I must confess Basil dis-
tinguished himself, earning the title of
"The White Flash." He was here, there,
and everywhere, a veritable human cy-
clone of speed and thoroughness. One
moment I would see him lugging heavy
mattresses through narrow doors, ar-
ranging them in a neat stack in the hall-
way. The next moment he would be
perched on the top of a step-ladder,
explaining to Elmer and H. A. the ad-
vantages of painting "across the grain"
over "with the grain." (Elmer and H. A.
were just a mite miffed until Basil
whipped out his union card in Local No.
71; after that they were real buddies, I
can tell you, as friendly as anything.
Basil, in fact, was insisting the movies
were overlooking two good bets for the
screen, and Elmer was talking about put-
ting Basil up for the 1940 presidency of
No. 71.) The next thing I would know,
Basil would be down on his knees, hard
at work on the squared tile flooring.

■ Ouida Rathbone is an understanding
woman so I'm sure she will not mind
that awful mess she finds upstairs on her
return from New York. She will realize
Basil had no alternative but to leave the
mattresses stacked six deep in the hall
when it turned out he could not remem-
ber which one came from which room.
She will know he left the walls and ceil-
ings splotched up with a priming coat only
because he wanted her to have the
pleasure of picking out the final colors.
And she is bound to understand about the
five buckets on the white squares and the
three hatboxes on the black ones in the
tiled hall; the squares had suggested a
game of checkers but unfortunately Elmer
had received an out of town call before
the game was finished which gave Basil
no choice but to promise to wait until he
could come back.

She is a generous woman, too, so she'll
probably understand about the bats and
why such extreme measures had to be
taken in the end.

Basil had located the nest in the big
north chimney with Sherlock Holmesian
despatch, and was prepared to use
humane methods to dislodge them. His
plan, I believe, called for covering the
chimney with a pup tent so the bats would
think it was night and fly right into the
ingenious canvas trap. The bats proved
obdurate, however, and wouldn't play by
those rules so he had to resort to drastic
measures of fire and water. A fine smudgy

fire of wet straw was started about two
feet from the top of the chimney. Un-
expectedly it slipped its moorings and
stuck half way down where eventually it
fizzled itself out. Naturally that left but
one course and Basil took it without bat-
ting an eye. He hauled up the garden hose
and turned it down the chimney full force.
The resultant mess of smoke, water and
debris in the living room was a little dis-
couraging, particularly since Basil never
did catch the bats; but as I said, Ouida is
a generous and understanding woman
about such trivialities. And he meant
well.

■ I'm afraid, though, there's going to be
a little trouble over the termites.

To be fair, I don't think Basil intended
to do it; I think the man just didn't know
his own strength. When he discovered
definite traces of the destructive little
beasts in the underpinnings 'of the west
wing he grabbed a handy crowbar and
went to work.

Theory or no theory, I don't think Ouida
is going to like it when she comes home
and finds half her house tilting at a 30
degree angle. A thing like that upsets a
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She Married Adventure

[Continued from page 25]

century were to symbolize, to millions of
movie-goers and readers of travel books,
the very spirit of romance and adventure.

For more than twenty-five years,
Martin and Osa Johnson, explorers ex-
traordinary, have been hailed by school-
boy and scientist alike as the final
authority on the native and animal life in
half a dozen of the little frequented, far
off places of the world. Borneo, the
South Seas, the New Hebrides, Australia,
all ceased to be mearingless names on the
map and vividly came to life in the pic-
tures and books produced by these pith-
helmeted Marco Polos.

But it was to the vast, challenging con-
tinent of Africa that the Johnsons owed
their greatest fame. Or perhaps, I might
better say, it was to the Johnsons, in the
last fifteen years, that Africa owed much
of its fame. More widely even than
Lawrence attracted attention to Arabia,
the Johnsons, as modern day historians of
Africa, with camera tripod and type-
writer have made that "Dark Continent"
known as a light continent, a sportsman's
paradise.

Certainly to untraveled and untutored
persons like your reporter, Africa, for the
past decade, has been a large body of land
surrounding Martin and Osa Johnson.

■ Three years ago Martin Johnson died
from injuries received in an airplane
crash in California. Osa, temporarily
crippled in the same accident, carried on
from a wheel chair the lecture tour they
had just begun.

And now, as a testimonial to the tre-
mendous task her husband accomplished
in pioneering and perfecting jungle films,
Mrs. Johnson has just finished assembling
a feature length picture, I Married Ad-
venture, an exciting record of the high-
lights of their various expeditions, culled
from more than a million feet of film shot
in the last twenty-seven years.

I learned something of just what sort
of a picture I Married Adventure will be,
when Osa Johnson came to New York a
few weeks ago to shoot a preface to the
film at the American Museum of Natural
History, which owes so much of its mag-
nificent display of African wild life to the
Johnsons.

I learned, too, the connecting links in
the story of the transition of a gingham
gowned little Kansas girl, who had never
been thirty miles away from home before
she married, to perhaps the most widely
traveled woman in the world.

Just what sort of a woman I expected
to meet the afternoon I called on Osa
Johnson in her suite at the Waldorf-As-
toria, I am not certain now. But it was a
big woman, a woman of big bones, big
gestures. Probably a complexion like an
English saddle, tanned by equatorial suns.
Maybe a mixture of Ma Pettingrew, the
boisterous ranch owner of fiction who
rolled her own cigarettes, and a grown
up Girl Scout in tweeds and a mannish
felt hat and an air of just having walked
a brisk twenty miles in sensible shoes.

Instead I found myself admiring the
chic furs and faultless coiffure of one of
the most dainty and feminine looking
ladies who ever set a modish foot on Park
Avenue.

Her pictures reveal how photogenic Osa
Johnson is herself. A description of her
impeccable taste in attire and just how
smart and stylish a figure she cuts, is a
job few men could do justice to. This
reporter merely will point out that the
Academy of Fashion last year named Osa
Johnson as one of the ten best dressed
women in America and cast his vote in
complete accord.

But though she might have stepped from
the pages of Vogue, so smart and sophis-
ticated did she look, and though her ad-
ventures have taken her six times around
the globe and in and out of most of the
capitals of Europe, there is nothing of the
blase cosmopolite, the thrill-hardened
Baedecker belle about Osa Johnson.

In her spirited enthusiasms, in her
simple viewpoints on life, most of all in
her high pitched, almost girlishly eager
voice, Osa Johnson is still 100% Kansas.
Twenty-nine years of hair-raising ex-
periences, half a million miles of travel,
roughing it in Rhodesia or promenading
in Paris, have not worn off the bloom and
charm of the girl from Chanute, Kansas.

Osa Johnson speaks of being captured
by tannibals, of tortuous treks in the
Congo, of lion kills, of charging rhinos, of
thundering herds of elephants as though
she were describing a cow pasture in the
middle west. She was seventeen when
she Set sail for the South Seas. When she
is seventy, I'll wager she'll be hiking up
the Himalayas or conducting a campaign
equally energetic somewhere else.

■ But to get back to that bright-eyed
sixteen-year-old bride who had come
to tickle the ears of audiences in The
Snark, the movie house in Independence,
and the appetite of its manager, back there
in May of 1910.

The Snark had derived its name from
the fact that Martin had accompanied
Jack London on his memorable cruise to
the South Seas in the 47-foot boat of that
name. The films that Martin had made
on the well publicized cruise supplied his
chief stock in trade when he set himself
up in the theatre business on his return
to his Kansas home town.

The wide public interest in those films
gave Martin the idea of a second trip to
the South Seas to make pictures on his
own, a year or so after he had married
Osa Helen Leighty, the little choir singer
of Chanute. To finance his venture,
Martin wrote the first of his many travel
books, Through The South Seas With
Jack London, and, selling his movie
theatre, he set out on a lecture tour, with
his Snark cruise film and Osa's repertory
of two newly learned Hawaiian songs as
chief side attractions.

"I was wriggling around in a Sarong
before Dorothy Lamour was born," Osa
told me, recounting how the adventurous

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pair worked their way West to San Fran-
cisco, with one night shows in mining and
lumber camps where acetylene gas sup-
plied their projection lighting.

"From San Francisco, we shipped to the
Solomon Islands, where we chartered a
sailboat and headed for the Cannibal Is-
lands. It was an open boat and I had to
be lashed to the deck at nights, when I
slept.

"It was on this trip I had the narrowest
escape of my whole life. We had gone
to photograph a tribe of cannibals on the
island of Malekula, in the New Hebrides.
We had been warned it would be dan-
gerous, but there had been no white men
attacked recently and we decided to take
the chance. We landed and got along fine
with the natives for the first day or so.
Then, as we were about to leave, Martin
decided we should say goodbye to the
chief, both out of courtesy and as a feature
for our film.

"We climbed the hill to his village and
approached to where the chief and a
group of his warriors were holding some
sort of pow-wow. 'Go up and shake hands
with him,' Martin told me, and prepared
to take pictures of my bidding goodbye
to the savage, a sinister looking old devil
with a human bone stuck through his
nose.

"The chief reached out and took my
hand, but when I turned to leave, he
would not let go. He grabbed my arm
■with his other hand. He seemed fasci-
nated by my white skin and kept rubbing
it, as if to rub away some mysterious
white paint. Then he began to feel me
all over.

"Martin made a move to gain my side
but was seized by several natives. I was
so terrified I could not speak, and merely
looked at Martin in dumb pleading. He
tried to wrest away but it was obvious
that the cannibals had turned ugly.

"I don't know what might have hap-
pened. Martin, they probably would have
killed and eaten, r probably would have
been added to the chief's retinue of wives.
It is still too ghastly an experience to think
much about.

"However, as we stood there, wonder-
ing what our fate was to be, a native ran
up and began gesticulating excitedly. We
looked in the direction in which he

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pointed and there, to our immense relief,
saw an English gunboat slowly making
its way toward shore.

"Of course, the natives believed the ship
was coming in search of us, and, as small
boats began to put out from the ship, tha
savages let us loose and took to the hills.
We ran just as fast toward the beach!

"The government official who had coma
to our rescue, himself was captured some
years afterwards and eaten by the can-
nibals. I've never liked the looks of a
big black pot since!"

When they returned to America with
their first feature film, Captured By Can-
nibals, Martin and Osa Johnson immed-
iately were established as the foremost
makers of adventure films. For the next
several years they cruised the South Seas
making other native pictures and then,
in 1917, at the promptings of exhibitors
who declared the public was tiring of
native films and wanted animal pictures,
the Johnsons made their first expedition
to Borneo where they shot Jungle Ad-
venturers.

In 1921, with the release of Trailing
African Wild Animals, regarded as the
first authentic African film, the Johnsons
decided that on "The Dark Continent"
lay the most interesting of the unexplored
paths for their future expeditions. For
the next fifteen years Africa was their
real home. They returned to America
only for visits every two years upon the
completion of a new film.

Some of the titles of these jungle epics
will stir the memories of adventure loving
fans, memories of exciting hours in the
theatre watching Simba, Safari, Across
The World, Congorilla, Baboona, Wings
Over Africa, Jungles Calling, Borneo and
many others.

It is from the million or more feet of
film shots for those past triumphs (several
of which grossed over $2,000,000) that
Osa has painstakingly picked the dramatic
thread of her own story — in I Married
Adventure. Scenes of lions killed within
a few feet of the camera, rhinoceros
charges, angry elephants dropped by Osa's
keen marksmanship at the very feet of
her husband who kept grinding away his
camera in a hundred harrowing episodes.
The breath-taking beauty of the great
African plains, studded with every kind

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of animal; the weird dances of the natives,
the happy pranks of pygmies, all these and
many more scenes, Osa told me she had
collected for her film which will follow
pictorially the narrative of the biography
she published in January under the title
I Married Adventure, the same title as
her forthcoming film..

For, like her husband, Osa is a writer
of considerable reputation. The $10,000
she received for a series of ten magazine
articles once helped finance one of the
Johnson expeditions and her full length
books, Osa Johnson's Jungle Book and
Osa Johnson's Jungle Pets, have been
children's favorites for some years.

B "But in addition to the narrow escapes
and the thrills of particularly stunning
animal shots, J Married Adventure will
have a new slant on jungle films in that
it will reveal the human inside story of
how such pictures are actually made, the
days and weeks of patient waiting in
blinds to get one scene, the drudgery of
scientific labor that Martin put into his
work," Osa declared in speaking of her
new entertainment venture. I specify
entertainment venture, for in the last year
this enterprising woman of forty-five, who
has the energy and appearance of a young
girl in her twenties, recently has em-
barked on several new ventures.

Returning from a three months expedi-
tion to Africa, last year, where she super-
vised the filming of the 300,000 feet of
location shots for Stanley and Livingstone,
Osa Johnson entered the field of com-
merce with two novelties for the market.
One, a glove, made of Congo pigskin, and
the second, a series of toys, copied from
the actual animal pets she had at various
times; Toto Twiga, a baby giraffe; Panta-
loons, the baby elephant she brought to
America; Snowball, the baboon she pre-
sented the Washington Zoo; and Honey
Boy, the Borneo bear she reared as a pet.
So far as I could learn, about the only
type of animal Osa never adopted as a
pet at some stage of her life in Africa,
was the rhinoceros.

"Rhinos are the only animals I really
hate," Osa told me. "In my opinion they
are the most dangerous of all animals.
They are the animals from which I have
had my narrowest escapes."

■ Speaking of jungle dangers, I asked
the handsome woman if she had ever
feared human molestation as she trekked
for months at a time through the wilder-
ness of Africa, the only woman in parties
that sometimes numbered forty or fifty
blacks.

"No," she replied, "I never felt the
slightest fear of the black men in Africa.
For one thing, to the average African, a
white woman is Ugly. He thinks her hair
is hideous and, strange as it may seem
to us who think of the black race as having
a definite odor, to the black man, the
white man's scent is even more repulsive.

"For another thing the boys had a great
respect for me because I was a good shot.
They depended on me for their food.
'Little Big Boss' they used to call me. I
learned Swahili, the native dialect, and
this made me liked by the blacks. Martin

and I grew fond of them, too. The African
blacks are children. No emotion, hate or
love or fear or anger lasts long after the
stimulating cause of it has been removed.
We especially loved the pygmies. They
are the happiest savages on earth. They
never think of tomorrow or of yesterday.
All that matters to them is today. Never
have I seen them quarrel or fight among
themselves."

"Did you," I asked the silk gowned lady,
"in the long months in the jungle, the only
woman among so many men, find your-
self adapting men's habit's, become looked
upon as 'a man's man'?"

Osa Johnson looked up with a quick
grin and a captivating brittleness was
added to her tone.

"I did not!" she stated emphatically.
"I was in love with my husband. I wanted
to keep him in love with me. The only
way to do that was to keep up the attrac-
tions of a woman. Everywhere I went I
carried my little kit of cosmetics, and
every evening, no matter how long the
trek, I 'made up' as carefully as if I were
dining at Claridges, and every night it
was possible, bathed and changed from
my workday slacks to a fresh, utterly
feminine dress.

"A good wife has got to be a woman,
even in the desert!" Osa Johnson con-
cluded with a soft, reminiscing look in her
eye.

As our talk drew to a close, I looked out
the window of the room high in the hotel,
at the panorama of New York, stretched
out below us. It was twilight, that magic
hour when Manhattan is at its gleaming
best, when the lights are winking on in
the tall office buildings, and over the whole
twinkling city hangs an air of rare beauty.
And suddenly the everyday streets be-
came canyons in man-made mountains of
great stone buildings. The big, clumsy
double deck buses became great green
elephants, lumbering through a jungle of
traffic.

Osa Johnson had taken me on such a
safari of the imagination that I bade her
goodbye as if I were about to strike out
for Nairobi, two hundred miles up country.
The native drums and spears that orna-
mented her room, the zebra skin rugs on
the floor, heightened the illusion and I
almost asked if she wanted me to send
her back anything from the trading post.
Say, you don't have an extra steamer
ticket to Capetown lying around, do you?

They tell this out at Selznick-lnter-
na+ional. As far back as 15 years ago,
Clark Gable was hounding the casting
offices for work. "Got anything today?"
he used to ask Fred Schuessler, then at
Universal Studios. The two men never met
again until Gable went out to Selznick
to work in Gone With ihe Wind. Schuess-
ler, now with Selznick, watched the elab-
orate preparations going on to receive
the famous star, and he wondered whether
or not Gable would remember him.
Twenty minutes after Gable arrived,
Schuessler, standing in his office with his
back to the door, suddenly felt a hand
on his shoulder, then a whisper in his ear.
"Got anything for me today?"

Hollywood Newsreel

[Continued from page 6]

becoming alarmed, sent the colored maid
to the nearest store for a bottle of extract
of beef, hoping that this would restore his
appetite.

The colored maid brought back the ex-
tract of beef — but it happened to be MILK.

| A much looked-forward-to motion
picture is Our Town, being produced by
Sol Lesser. It's the most ambitious picture
venture he has ever attempted, and if ever
there was a labor of love, it's this one.
He loved the stage play and he's going to
make you movie fans love his screen
version. The play was staged without the
use of scenery, and Sol is going to follow
the same line of procedure. We've read
the script, had a peek at the set designs,
and have listened by the hour while Sol
talked about his plans. Here's a sample of
the unique treatment to be employed.

The film opens without the usual title,
acting and technical credits. Instead all
you'll see, first, is the back of a man's head.
He's working over a jigsaw puzzle of the
map of the United States. The man turns
around, glances into the camera and says:

"This picture is called Our Town. It
was written by Thornton Wilder, pro-
duced by Sol Lesser, and directed by Sam
Wood. In it, you will see," — here he names
the cast. Then the man (he's Frank
Craven) goes on. "The name of the town

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard flew
to Atlanta for the opening of Gone
With the Wind and flew back again to
attend the huge premiere in Hollywood

is Grover's Corners, New Hampshire —
just across the Massachusetts line, longi-
tude 24 degrees, etc." And so the story
begins and goes on with either Craven

appearing in his gentle characterization
or narrating on the sound track with
appropriate pantomime from the cast until
it speaks its own dialogue. The famous
graveyard scene, as Wilder discusses life
after death will be in it. Lesser, with a
camera crew, made background shots of
a great number of New England ceme-
teries, and these scenes will find places in
the film. Our Town should — and will —
make a picture worth seeing.

U To give you an idea just how popular
Arthur Lake is with the Blondie movie
fans, and how they have accepted him in
reel and real life as Dagwood Bumstead,
the post office department has installed a
special box in the Hollywood branch and
labelled it "Dagwood." This was done
because officials claim that more than 90
per cent of the mail he receives is
addressed, "Dagwood."

As for Dagwood's wife, Blondie — well,
she's getting her share of public attention
these days, too. Just recently Orchestra
Leader Billy Artz wrote a new hit tune
and titled it "Blondie" and it's going over
big.

B Ken Murray, if he'll take our advice,
had better cut out his acrobatics from
now on and stick to emceeing. At one
of his radio broadcasts, he was supposed
to leap onto a piano for a number Frances
Langford was to sing for him. He missed
and landed INSIDE, instead of ON

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has had within the year. In his first operation he
was given mobile arms and legs.

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the piano, with a crash that had more
discords than all the jitterbug music you
ever have heard! The audience, thinking
it was part of the act, gave him a big hand.
The doctor gave him first aid.

■ Back to "Blondie" who, in real life,
is Penny Singleton. On New Year's
Day, Penny ordered her cook to prepare
an elaborate dinner. "For three very
special guests," she said. When the time
arrived to serve, the cook, worrying for
fear her cooking efforts would go for
naught if the guests delayed too long in
arriving, voiced a sad complaint to
Penny.

"You mustn't worry like that," Penny
smiled. "The guests are all here. You
call the gardener, and the baby's nurse —
and then you take off your apron. This
dinner is for the three of you — and I
wouldn't want nicer guests, either!"

f$ Hollywood is a funny place, says
Humphrey Bogart.

In Hollywood, he points out, "Mike is
not an Irish comedian. It's a microphone
that picks up actors' voices. A beard is
not a chest protector. It's a covering for
the microphone. A baby does not have
to be fed from the bottle. It's a small
spotlight. A three-step is not a new
dance. It's a short stepladder the elec-
tricians use. A juicer does not squeeze
oranges. He is a studio electrician. A
grip is not a piece of baggage. It's a name
for the men who do the heavy labor on
sound stages."

Hollywood is funny in other respects,
Bogart says. "People that are not, are —
and people who are, are not. Sounds silly,
but that's Hollywood. For instance.

William, Dick, and Eleanor Powell are not
brothers and sister. Rosalind Russell is
not the daughter of Lillian Russell. Jimmy
Cagney is as Irish as Paddy's Pig, but he
can speak Jewish better than most Jews.
A bank check signed by Dennis Morgan
would be forgery. His real name is Stanley
Morner. Garbo's deep voice was not
caused by a throat operation. She de-
veloped it to imitate one of Sweden's
greatest actresses. And, though I am a
bogey-man on the screen and they call
me 'Bogey,' I'm not really that way. I
play a cracker jack game of hazard
croquet!"

■ Would You Believe It — and If You
Do, What Of It Department: That
the newest hobby in Hollywood among the
motion picture stars is to make up dances
between scenes on the movie sets. Bette
Davis and Henry Fonda have made up a
dance which they call the "FONDAtion
Fox-trot . . . Jane Wyman was selected
by the west coast chapter of the National
Bcwlers' Congress as their official "Pin
Girl." In other words, the girl with the
prettiest set of "pins" (ouch!) . . . Huntley
Gordon, talent scout for the Gulf Screen
Guild Theatre has traveled a total distance
of 13,500 miles to contact movie stars for
this radio series— AND WOULD YOU
BELIEVE IT, Nelson Eddy says he was
fired from his job as a reporter on the
Philadelphia Press for singing during
working hours . . . That James Stewart
was the bugler in his Boy Scout troup
during the star's boyhood in Indiana,
Pennsylvania . . . The fastest trip from
Europe to Hollywood was made by
Maureen O'Sullivan. She left Europe on
the Yankee Clipper, arrived in New York

Not tired a bit was Ginger Rogers after sitting through four hours of Gone
With the Wind. Walter Plunkett, who designed the graceful gowns for the film,
accompanied her to Jock Whitney's party at the new Trocadero after the show

When Dorothy Lamour finished work
on Typhoon, this is how she "rested."
She is after tuna, and evidently it
is a big one on that heavy line

and an hour later caught a plane for
Hollywood.

■ Funniest Christmas present — the
snood that Orson Welles received to

wear over his beard!

■ Eleven-year-old Gloria Jean got a
big laugh from the practical joke she

played on Charles Previn, Universal
musical director. In addition to her daily
voice lesson, the youthful coloratura star
of The Under-Pup is also taking piano
lessons from Previn. Recently the musical
director was a dinner guest at Gloria's
home. Walking into the house he found
Gloria seated at the piano, her fingers
running over the keys and the difficult
Chopin's "Polonaise Militaire" ringing
true. Previn was amazed until he learned
that his "prodigy" was merely going
through the motions, while a player piano
roll ground out the tune!

B Director William Dieterle took time
off one day during the filming of
Magic Bullets to give a lecture to a
score of extras who seemed to be going
through their acting paces without the
proper spirit. The scene called for them
to storm the doors of the children's hos-
pital ward in the Kaiser Wilhelm Hospital
in pre-war Berlin.

"Act like mothers!" the director ad-
monished. "In that room are your children
dying from diphtheria. Force your way
in. Push the door open. Your children
are in there."

Then as a final exhortation Dieterle
shouted: "Make believe it's dollar day in
a department store basement!"

Even the threat of an operation fails to
dim Joan Fontaine's sense of humor. Taken
to the hospital, during the filming of
Rebecca, for a series of X-ray pictures, Joan
was laid on a table and warned by the nurse
to lie perfectly still. "Of course I'll lie
still," grinned Joan. "This is the biggest
close-up I ever had!"

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Battle of the Sexes

[Continued from page 23]

Mr. Grover Jones. Miss West wrote most
of her dialogue; Mr. Fields his. Miss
West, as Floradora, a Chicago nightclub
singer, comes out west to visit relatives.
On the way she is kidnapped by a masked
bandit. Later she shows up in Little Bend
looking uncommonly contented for a lady
who has been kidnapped. That night the
masked bandit is observed leaving her
room, and the townspeople are perfectly
capable of putting one and one together
and getting foul play, so they drive Flora-
dora from town and instruct her to get
married. Floradora bumps into Mr. Cuth-
bert J. Twillie, a medicine man with a
troupe of Indians, and is delighted to see
that Mr. Twillie's carpet-bag is stuffed
with money. Floradora decides to get the
money by marrying Mr. Twillie in a phony
marriage ceremony. Mr. Twillie's at-
tempts to get into the same bedroom with
his wife are constantly being frustrated
and Mr. Twillie is driven to all sorts of
artful dodges to gain entrance. Once he
masquerades as the masked bandit and
gets in, but Floradora gets a peek at Mr.
Twillie's nose and chases him out. Mr.
Twillie morosely observes: "I married a
woman like the old army game — now you
see her, now you don't." Meanwhile,
Floradora has fallen for the saloon pro-
prietor, a hard character named Jeff Bad-
ger, played by Joseph Calleia, and is
absolutely astonished to find she loves
both the masked bandit and Mr. Badger.
She can't figure it out until she kisses
Mr. Badger and in so doing learns that
the masked bandit and Mr. Badger are
one and the same.

■ As Floradora, Miss West is the one
who is going to stab Mr. Hays in the
back if he is going to be stabbed, and so
we will give you the lowdown on this
blonde first, and expose Cuthbert J.
Twillie later.

Miss West wears a total of 15 elegant
dresses in My Little Chickadee and most of
them are at least skin-tight. Word has
gotten around that Miss West whittled off
twenty pounds just before starting this
picture. How and where those twenty
pounds went has made your correspondent
almost intolerably curious, but it is still a
secret. What is more vital, Miss West now
weighs 120 pounds, and cross my heart and
hope to be a purged Russia, if she isn't the
toothsomest lady this correspondent has
seen since that dream he had about Bali.
Her complexion is the make-up man's
delight and her eyes are big and blue and
loquacious. In other years detractors
were wont to say that some of Miss West's
lushest curves were swindles, arrived at
by using pads, balloons and other un-
scrupulous equipment, so when Miss West,
bulging delicately in a boudoir raiment,
swished by for a scene I whispered
hoarsely to Mr. Cline, the director: "Am
I seeing everything I'm seeing?"

Mr. Cline, who had been directing this
blonde for seven weeks then, and still
seemed pretty awed, replied: "The camera
never lies!"

■ The thing that worried Universal most
was the suspicion that the personal-
ities of Miss West and Mr. Fields would
mingle like fire and nitroglycerine. Both
are members of the old school vaudeville,
and it is well known that either of them
will resort to anything up to and includ-
ing murder to prevent the theft of a laugh
or a scene. On one occasion Mr. Fields
was doing a billiard table act and a comed-
ian named Ed Wynn sneaked under the
table and made faces at the audience,
arousing laughter when Mr. Fields wasn't
expecting it. When Mr. Fields discovered
Mr. Wynn he hauled off and pasted him
with the butt of the billiard cue and
knocked Mr. Wynn colder than a pen-
guin's heel. Such is the stuff with which
Mr. Fields and Miss West are made.
Consequently, when it was announced
that these two would make pictures to-
gether, sharing top billing, a localized war
was expected. So far, not a shot has been
fired.

Each day Mr. Fields greets Miss West
with an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
The blonde rolls her big blue eyes up at
him and says, "Oh Bill, darling; how are
you?"

"Fine, my plum, fine. Thank you dear."

"Your nose, Bill," says the blonde.

"My nose, dear?" asks Mr. Fields,
caressing his built-in 'cello. "Is some-
thing amiss?"

"It isn't as red as it used to be."

"Garcon!" thunder Fields. "Garcon,
fetch me my sherry jug, my nose needs
conditioning!"

It is an awful thing to say, but I sus-
pect Mr. Fields is flesh and bone like the
rest of us, and is susceptible to the wiles
of woman. Just after the picture started,
Miss West said: "Bill, darling, I don't
like the way you're doing your hair."

"Don't you, dear? What's wrong, not
enough of it? My mother, Mrs. Dunken-
field, once beheld an Indian scalp a white
man. Consequently, I was born bald
as an onion. Haven't had much since."

"It's not that, it's the part. Come here,
let me do it for you."

It is my humiliation to report that Mr.
Fields yielded, let the blond lady part
his hair at a new angle, and has worn it
that way ever since.

Miss West's solicitude went even farther
one day when Fields, clad in pajamas for
a boudoir scene, was strolling about the
set. Miss West called: "Bill, you must
be cold, why don't you put on my robe."

"Mrs. Twillie," said Mr. Fields, "I am
a man, not a silkworm."

"Go on, Bill, lots of men wear women's
robes."

"And how would you be knowing a
thing like that, my robust little hour-
glass?"

"I read it in a book."

■ The actual dialogue of the picture is a
secret to be unleashed upon the public

undampened by advance reports, but a
few lines have escaped:

In one scene Miss West is a school-

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teacher; a pupil asks: "Teacher, what is
addition?"

"Well, one and one are two," replies the
succulent scourge of Greasewood City;
"two and two are four, and five will get
you ten if you know how to work it."

■ As Cuthbert J. Twillie, Mr. Fields is
in his legendary role as the man whose
philosophy is "Never give a sucker an
even break." Mr. Twillie, like most
Fieldsian characters, is lovably criminal.
Most endearing of his delinquencies is his
card-playing, which is adroit and uni-
formly crooked. He is wearing his gray
stovepipe hat in My Little Chickadee,
palming counterfeit money and managing
a medicine show, including an Indian
named Milton, played by George Moran.
But Mr. Fields, like an anteater, gains a
great part of his fame from his gorgeous
nose. Your correspondent inspected the
livid promontory at close range, and was
reminded of nothing so much as of a
tomato with hives. This beak of Mr.
Fields is worth its weight in radium, for
besides being a trademark, it is kind of
a nasal pipe-organ from which Mr. Fields
delivers sounds ranging from a vibrant
snarl to the coo of an adenoidal infant.

As usual, Mr. Fields is ad libbing. He
has been ad libbing since an early exper-
ience in vaudeville when his partner, a
nervous girl, sprinted on to the stage and
knocked over a backdrop with a row of
houses painted on it. Mr. Fields eyed
the carnage, then muttered to the aud-
ience: "They don't build houses the way
they used to." The audience laughed.
After that the girl knocked down the
scenery every night.

Sometimes, Mr. Cline, the director, who
realizes that Mr. Fields talking on the
loose is as good if not better than the
script, lets the camera run when the old
master has forgotten his lines and is
functioning smoothly on what ever comes
into his head. Recently, when Mr. Cline
was cashing in on these free drolleries,
Mr. Fields, without batting an eye, finished
out his sentence — "and I'm not saying
another word, I only get paid for so much."

If Mr. Hays runs his blue pencil through
My Little Chickadee, your correspondent
is going to join somebody's army.

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What the Family Said

There is nothing to compare with the pride and glory
of that first stage appearance, and there is nothing to
compare with the let-down when (he family speaks up

By EOLMA FLAKE

H There isn't one of us who doesn't hope some-
day to rate a brass-band and parade when the
news of our impending return to the old home-
stead is announced. At no time are we more
certain that such fanfare will be ours than the day
on which we get that first professional engage-
ment. Then of all days, we have visions! Cer-
tainly we expect Ma, Pa, Bub, Sis, dear Auntie
and good old Unc to swoon with pride over that
first achievement. But, oh, alas! And, oh, alack!
Which one of us is understood ALL of the time
at home?

Take Charley Ruggles' experience for example.
His father was San Francisco's leading amateur
comedian. Whenever the Elks had a parade, Papa
invariably was cast in the side-splitting role of a
nice, over-size infant riding in a be-ribboned and
be-ruffled baby-buggy. Make no mistake, Papa
was a hit. Papa was a wow. Papa slayed them.
Papa never failed to draw huzzahs from the
happy, holiday-spirited crowds.

But Papa was an amateur. When Charley
obtained his first professional theatrical engage-
ment in a road-show troupe playing one-night
stands in California, Oregon and Washington,
Papa was not exactly enthusiastic. After three
months, the troupe arrived in Oakland just across
the bay from his home town. Much persuasion
was necessary to get Father Ruggles to attend the
performance.

Encamped in the second row, he sat glumly
through the play until the final scene when
Charley — garbed in the bloody, battle-torn uni-
form of an American soldier and carrying the
American flag — came over a parapet and collapsed
in a dramatic death scene. During the ensuing
ovation, Charley opened one eye very slightly
and with joy saw his father standing and applaud-
ing heartily. Off-stage at last, he rushed to Father
exclaiming, "Well, Dad, I see you liked my
work!"

"Didn't think it was so good," was the non-
chalant reply.

"But, Dad, you stood up and applauded the last
scene," Charley exclaimed.

"Of course, I did," Father snapped. "Every
patriot stands up when they play 'The Star-

Charles Ruggles
got a big hand

Penny Singleton
started a fight

Edgar Kennedy
lost a friend

Spangled Banner', and I always applaud the
American flag!"

Weil, perhaps a comedian doing a dramatic
turn should expect that — even from his own
father. But Charley isn't the only one who's had
such an experience.

Irene Dunne's first screen appearance was in
Present Arms, a musical comedy.

When Miss Alice Henry, Irene's favorite rela-
tive and distinguished member of Kentucky
society, saw her niece as an over-rouged, fluffed-
up, pseudo-glamourized, candy-stick musical
comedy heroine, she immediately despatched an
indignant wire, "NO LOUISVILLE DUNNE EVER
HAD TO LOOK LIKE THAT TO EARN A
LIVING STOP COME HOME."

It was a wire which deflated John Payne, too.
As a student at Columbia University, he thor-
oughly blew his lines six times during a school
production. Any hope that his parents might
overlook that was crushed by a wire which read,
"DEAR JOHN COME HOME STOP WE DON'T
THINK YOU WILL EVER BE AN ACTOR STOP
MOTHER AND DAD".

When a mere lad in Butte, Montana, Alan
Dinehart had memory trouble, too. In his first
appearance in a local stock company, he played
the role of a 70 year old man. Carefully, he
applied the white hair and beard, and used the
lining pencil lavishly. He made up his neck and
he lined his hands. He practised a decrepit walk
for days, and his fellow actors congratulated him
enthusiastically upon his wonderful make-up.
Unfortunately, on stage he kept the prompter
busy. His father was a kindly soul. He contented
himself by saying, "Well, Son, it's too bad you put
all the lines on your face instead of in your head!"

Back in Texas a few years ago, a wholesome
young damsel named Clara Lou Sheridan entered
a bathing beauty contest. And much to her sur-
prise, she won first prize. Laden with a silver
trophy the size of an umbrella stand, she rushed
off to get her family's approbation. But the first
member she chanced to see was her younger
brother, whom she had noticed sitting right along-
side the "gangplank" watching the beauty parade.
She ran over to him and was dismayed when he

Irene Dunne
got a wire

Billy Gilbert
got only tears

Ann Sheridan
had a shock

i^t

Henry Wilcoxon
had competition

Ilona Massey
got petticoats

John Payne's
family fled

exclaimed, "Gee, Clara Lou, that's the
first time I ever saw you walk decently!"
Now, as Ann Sheridan, Clara Lou can
grin about that.

About twenty years ago, Henry
Wilcoxon obtained a professional engage-
ment with a Shakespearean company pre-
senting Midsummer Night's Dream in an
outdoor theatre near London. Proudly
the lad presented his parents and brother
with tickets on the third row so they
could see and hear him speak his five
lines. Just as Henry's cue came, an air-
plane flew overhead. Since planes were
decided novelties in those days, every
head in the audience turned to the sky.
At the conclusion of the presentation,
Henry was sought backstage by an anx-
ious family exclaiming, 'Are you ill? Did
they replace you at the last moment?
Did you lose your costume? You weren't
in the play at all! Where were you?"

Lured by a five dollar bill offered as a
prize, Penny Singleton — at the age of nine
— surreptitiously entered an amateur con-
test held by the neighborhood theatre.
When the audience started to laugh at the
little girl's warbling, Penny stopped and
delivered a very heated, Irish tirade on
audiences who didn't give a fellow a
chance . . . and won the prize on her
pointed remarks.

Her parents, duly impressed by the
prize, were present when Penny entered
the next one. Between the two, Penny
had done a considerable bit of practicing
and was in fine fettle. Singing her heart

out and her head off, she won again.
Going out to get parental blessings, she
found her mother and father far too busy
in an argument about whether she took
after Mamma's folks or Papa's side of the
family, to pause for congratulations.

Billy Gilbert, rotund comedian of The
Under-Pup and of Destry Rides Again,
recalls the deflation following his per-
formance very thoroughly. He is just
about the only one who was deflated by
his mother. By the time he obtained his
first engagement, his parents had retired
from the Metropolitan Opera Company
where they had been very successful.
Both Mere and Pere sat on the front row
of the Valencia Theatre in San Francisco
to watch Billy as a member of a comedy
vaudeville team. As he went off-stage,
he was thoroughly elated by the generous
applause and hilarious laughter.

But in his dressing room he found dis-
tressed parents. Instead of praising him,
they exclaimed, "You were terrible!"

"But, Mother, why did they laugh?"
Billy expostulated. "I must have been
funny!"

"You were silly — not funny, my son.
That's why they laughed."

Edgar Kennedy lost a friend when he
made his appearance as leading man with
the Ferris-Harmann Company in Stub-
born Cinderella. Before becoming an
actor, Edgar had been boxing his way into
the Pacific Coast Amateur Championship.
His friend, Tim, was thrilled with this
achievement, and bitterly disappointed

when Edgar turned to acting. After
watching his hero in the play on the first
night, Tim walked around to Edgar's
dressing room and exclaimed, "Gee, and
I thought you were going to be a real
champ!" Disgustedly, he went out the
door. Edgar has not seen nor heard of
him since.

Ilona Massey's first screen performance
in Rosalie, in which she sang a song
dressed in a long, black, revealing velvet
gown, threw consternation into the
Massey family. They live in the little
town of Nagykoros, Hungary, where it is
believed that a girl should wear clothes —
lots of petticoats.

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clad in black, formed a beautiful silhouette
which caused most audiences to gasp.
Well, in Nagykoros, they gasped too —
but in horror. The small town's one
theatre was jammed full the first night
of the picture's showing. After the film
was unreeled, Mother and Father Massey
and thirteen Uncle Masseys rushed home,
fearing to face the neighbors.

The townsfolk held court in front of the
theatre and discussed the situation.
Women were astounded that Ilona could
be so — well, so brazen. The men just
grinned. Eventually, the verdict on
Ilona's screen debut reached Hollywood
. . . would she please wear more clothes?

Whatever the let-down during those
first exciting days, the actors look back
now with laughter instead of hurt in their
hearts.

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that appealed to me most. Then
when Ty began being interested in
this same girl, that was perfect! It wasn't
until the production of Suez, however,
that I finally met Annabella. Off the
screen, I liked her even better."

Incidentally, when you say "Mother
Power" (as many do, to distinguish her
from Mrs. Power, Jr.), you perhaps give
the impression of a comfortably plump,
chimney-corner sort of person, content to
bask in the aura of her movie star son and
let the world go by. Ha! No impression
could be further from the truth.

In a peach taffeta hostess robe, and gold
sandals that reflected the gleam of the
wide gold bracelet on her arm, Tyrone
Power's mother welcomed me into a
modernistic apartment with which her
sophisticated charm was in complete ac-
cord. She's a vital personality whose
achievements stand on their own feet,
however high any child of hers may climb.
To the old-fashioned fundamentals of
mother-love and helpfulness, she adds the
thoroughly up-to-date outlook of a woman
whose days are full of study, of charity
work, and of such social events as she
permits within her routine. "If only,"
she says, "the days were 48 hours long,
instead of 24!"

She is handsome, with those dark eyes
and dark brows, and that exquisitely coif-
fed dark hair streaked with gray. Yes, but
more. Well-bred, gracious, with smart-
ness of grooming and mind and dress.
The kind of mother a son would be glad
to take out to dine and dance. The kind
of mother who has a wideawake sense of
humor. The kind —

Why, one night at half past 11, with
Mrs. Power sound asleep after a hard day,
Ty bounced home on his motor-scooter.
At the time he was delivery-boy for a
drugstore and the scooter went with the
job. This was the night of the Fourth of
July, and Ty had bought at terrific bargain
prices the entire leftover stock of fire-
works at the drugstore. Cheerfully Mother
Power climbed from bed, though she
wanted her sleep, and applauded the pur-
chase. "Splendid!" Only thirty minutes
of the Fourth remained. "But we went
out in the yard and got them all shot
off before midnight," Mother Power rem-
inisced amusedly.

Reflecting its owner (who honestly
doesn't like noise, fireworks or otherwise) ,
that modernistic apartment of Patia Pow-
er's is one of the few serene spots in Holly-
wood. Its lofty ivory walls have upon
them three or four good paintings in
restful greens and blues. Its furniture is
bright with rusty-rose and cream. There's
a deep fireplace, and a mellow glow of
lamplight.

"I hunted apartments while Ty and
Annabella were getting engaged," she ex-
plained, "of course it was useless to
consult those two — they couldn't hear any-
one but each other! I told them to keep
a certain evening open, for dinner.
'Where?' they asked. 'You'll see,' I
answered. The evening came and I gave

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them this address. When they arrived,
Ty stared in astonishment. 'Mother!! do
you live here? when did you get the
furniture? when did you move in?' 'I did
all this while you've been making love,'
I told him. They were quite amazed that
so much could go on under their noses
without their being aware of it. But
people in love — you know."

Ty and Annabella drop in at Patia's
apartment from time to time. Whenever
they are out for a drive or shopping, they
come by. Mother Power drops in on them,
too — no regular days for it, the latch-
string's always out — to her. Sometimes
the three of them get together twice a
week or oftener, sometimes once a fort-
night, but at least twice a month "the
children" take Patia to dinner. "Some
place where there's good roast beef,"
Mother Power laughed, "I'm afraid my
appetite is mannish, and roast beef never
tastes so good at home as in a restaurant
. . . Naturally, I don't see Ty so much as
when he lived at home with me. But,"
added this paragon of mothers and
mothers-in-law, "he has his life. I have
mine."

While Patia doesn't interfere at all with
this life of her son's, she does look on
with interest and appreciation. "Annabella
makes it very apparent that she regards

Tyrone as head of the house. You can
tell by the way she defers to his opinion.
French girls are brought up like that,
don't you think? Anyhow, Annabella
wants things this way.

"It pleases me to watch them entertain.
They gave a cocktail party for Charles
Boyer and his wife, Pat. I hesitated when
they asked me to come, because I felt it
would be the younger crowd, but they
said, "Mother, do come over and look on,
anyhow', so I went. Annabella and Ty
had their eyes upon everyone but watched
no one (my own idea of correct entertain-
ing) ; they were everywhere, making sure
each guest was happy, but without obtrud-
ing themselves on anybody.

"They used the new glassware which
they brought back from Europe. Really
lovely dishes, especially the red plates
with the white 'paper dollies' blown into
the glass. Nearly every guest, lifting a
cup from the plate, tried to lift the doily,
too.

"Yes, they entertain cordially, and so
easily, too. On another evening, when
their guests were the Zanucks, I noticed
that they didn't try to figure how the
Zanucks would entertain, but did it simply
and naturally, just as they always enter-
tained. It was Annabella and Tyrone
giving a party without trying to be sud-

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denly grand. And I think the party was
a success because they were themselves.

M To be oneself is so important in Patia's
scheme of things that she's always
believed her children (Ty has a younger
sister, Ann) ought to be free to do what
they seriously decided was best. This
liberty of decision stood as Rule 1 of the
code by which Mother Power brought
them up to be independent individuals.

"They could always come to me for ad-
vice, yes. But I tried to let them make
their own decisions, even though some-
times I could feel my stomach turning
over and my hair pulling out at the roots!"

In accordance with Rule 2, she always
told Ty and his sister the truth, so far as
they were able to understand it at the
time. "They could ask any question they
liked and get a correct, if not always a
complete, answer. Then, as they went on
and learned more, they never had to un-
learn anything. I never had to say: 'Well,
dear, I told you such and such a fable be-
cause you were too young — ' and so forth.

"Tyrone is a 'why' person. I'd say, 'I
want you to do this,' and he'd say, 'Why?'
So I'd say: 'Let's sit down and talk it
over. . . . Now, in my experience, I've
found that if you do thus and thus, then
so and so will happen. Here's what I
think, and I'll never say, T told you so,' but
just remember, if things turn out wrong,
what I'm telling you now/ "

H Generally, Tyrone took her advice.

Not always, though. There was the

time when he rode the bike on Sunday.

"Not that I expect you to keep still like

a statue all day," Mother Power said—

this was back in Cincinnati, when he was
a small boy — "but there's a certain
standard of Sunday behavior in the neigh-
borhood, and I'd rather you wouldn't race
round on your bicycle."

While Mother was busy, Tyrone
mounted his wheel and set off gaily down
the street. Looking in one direction to
see if he remained unobserved, and speed-
ing in another, he ran full tilt into a
parked car.

"When he came into the house, he was
the strangest looking sight," Mrs. Power
remembered, "half of one eyebrow had
been sheared off by the edge of a fender,
and with half that thick eyebrow gone
his face looked so bare. 'What happened
to you?' I asked. He told me. 'You
weren't supposed to ride your bicycle to-
day?' 'No, mother.' 'And you did?' 'Yes,
mother.' 'Well, that's it, isn't it?' I said,
'you've had your punishment.' It took
quite a while for the eyebrow to grow
back. Long enough for him to think things
over."

A second occasion on which Ty didn't
think things over first, but made up his
mind without benefit of advice, was when
at an early age he decided to bob sister
Ann's hair. Sister Ann had lovely, long,
dark curls — she looks like Tyrone and
both look like their mother — but if Ty
said the curls should come off, that was all
right with Ann. She has always wor-
shipped Ty. Scissors were procured, and
a very ragged job of barbering accom-
plished. Friends exclaimed over the sac-
rifice of the curls, but Sister Ann refused
to feel dashed. Ty could do no wrong.

Mother said nothing much, for hair

Lon Chaney, Jr., as the big, childish Lennie in Of Mice and Men, is frightened
of wiry little Curley (Bob Steele), but Curley makes the great mistake of underesti-
mating the giant's strength. A review of this powerful picture is on pages 12 and 13

comes in again and Patia Power doesn't
waste time fretting over non-essentials.
"Why do we take life so grimly?" she said,
commenting upon the crowds that rush
by along the street, "life is something to
be lived. Why not live it happily and
with a good air? Have you noticed, on
the street, how few people smile?"

| Tyrone needed all the smiles he could
muster when — thanks to the habit of
making his own decisions — he first came
to Hollywood alone, looking for a job in
the movies. After Hollywood's crazy
pattern, he didn't prosper in the film
capital until after he'd gone to New York
and— spotted by producer Darryl Zanuck
in a Twentieth Century-Fox screen test —
been summoned back again.

But during the interim, while he was
finding out how cold Hollywood can be,
his mother arrived on the Coast to manage
a little-theatre at San Diego. She stopped
for a few weeks in Hollywood en route.
"Mother, these breakfasts are wonderful!"
Tyrone said when with a chum he had
sampled his mother's cookery for several
days.

"Just the conventional breakfast," his
mother protested, "fruit, cereal, eggs,
toast, coffee. . . . Nothing unusual."

"You'd think they were unusual," Ty re-
torted with emotion, "if you'd breakfasted
on coffee and doughnuts every day for six
months."

Not until then did Mother Power realize
that Ty was truly having a struggle. "Not
that it hurt him," she remarked, "it did
him good — as it does any young fellow —
a lot of good."

She thinks of those days when she
pastes the clippings now into Ty's scrap-
books. As Keeper of the Clippings, Mother
Power — aided by Sister Ann (who, by the
way, paints and writes with real talent) —
has an important job. Each picture rates
its scrapbook, sometimes several scrap-
books, and the tomes are painstakingly
filed in such a way that any desired
clipping may be found almost immediately.
Mother Power admits that 20 years from
now, Ty will probably appreciate these
records more than he does today, but at
least, today, he admires the neat and busi-
nesslike appearance of the files.

"Tyrone's a very orderly person,"
Mother Power said with a twinkle in her
eye, "his sense of order developed rather
early. He discovered that if he threw a
favorite coat or pair of trousers on the
floor, he wouldn't find the garment next
time he wanted it. He had tossed his
things helterskelter — how could he expect
anyone to know where they were?"

| It isn't his sense of order, though,
which Mother Power judges to be her
son's best trait. "What satisfies me most in
Tyrone," she said, "is his ability to go
straight to a point.

"He takes time to consider all sides of
the matter, he listens to what you have
to say, but once his mind is made up, once
he's sure of his decision, he drives directly
for his objective. No matter what dif-
ficulties bar the way, he climbs over them
cr around them and keeps on.

"The second trait that gives me great

satisfaction is Ty's ability to take a beat-
ing gracefully.

"He will fight and argue to the last
minute, but if you can cap his final argu-
ment, if you convince him that you're
right, then he yields — and does it well.
I'm glad he has this quality."

Yet, it is characteristic of Mother Power
that she isn't "proud" of these traits, nor
of her son's rise to stardom. "I've never
felt that sense of pride about which you
hear," she said thoughtfully, "what I've
felt wasn't surprise, either. It was satis-
faction."

You gather that she rather expected
Tyrone to mount to the heights. And that
she expects him to mount still higher.

"I can see real growth in his acting
since Lloyd's of London, she remarked.
She goes over Ty's pictures with him after
each preview, points out what she thinks
particularly good in his characterization,
what could be improved; giving him the
benefit of her expert professional criticism.

"He was a boy in Lloyd's and a man in
The Rains Came. I saw him do things in
The Rains which I knew he was doing
independently and not because he'd been
told to do them. As in the scene outside
the hospital, when the heroine dies and
he rather goes to pieces.

"To me," said the professional dramatic
coach, not the mother, "this proves that
he's maturing as an actor. He's becoming
self reliant. It shows in his character and
his work. Marriage has done this for
him."

She sat a moment in silence, the peach
robe golden-pink in the fire flicker. Her
voice, friendly and magnetic, took on a
deeper tone.

"I think Ty grew up," she said softly,
"when Annabella left him so soon after
the wedding to go to France, to visit her
people and settle various business affairs
over there. For the first time he realized
his responsibility as head of a household.

"Always before, there had been Mother
to see that things ran smoothly. Now,
in spite of servants, there was no one but
himself. Yes, that's when Ty grew up.
Marriage did that for him, too."

Ida Lupino, who should be busy enough
scoring best performances of the year (she's
terrific in The Light That Failed), is working
with Ralph Forbes on a musical comedy
which will be produced locally sometime in
the spring. Ralph wrote the story and the
lyrics, and Ida is doing the music. For those
of you who may not know, Ida is the com-
poser of a book of ballads and waltzes which
will be published probably by the time you
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IV ii 11 y Singleton takes time out from
the filming of the Blondie series to
give favorite recipes for luncheon

By BETTY CBOCKEB

9 Penny Singleton, bet-
ter known to the
movie and radio fans as
"Blondie", doesn't mind a
bit being compared to that
delightful cartoon char-
acter. Really, Penny is so
much like "Blondie" that
it's surprising. She lives in
a modest little cottage, has
a cute and lovable child,
entertains the girls at her
regular bridge club, and even gets into
comical situations just like her prototype
in the Columbia pictures.

For instance, Penny's earnings enabled
her to buy a nice little home for her par-
ents, and she proudly took them out one

night after a broadcast for
the unveiling. But. to her
disgust the lights wouldn't
go on, so she summoned
the electric company's re-
pair man. He soon found the
difficulty. Blondie hadn't
put globes in the sockets!

But to get to our sub-
ject—Penny's bridge
luncheon: In her well-
equipped kitchen, where
she loves to do her own cooking, Penny got
out her recipes for her last luncheon. First
of all came Hot Crabmeat Salad in crisp
lettuce cups accompanied by tiny hot
cheese biscuits, and then applesauce cake
to top things off. Here are the recipes:

HOT CRABMEAT SALAD

Vz cup butter

% cup all-purpose flour

2% cups milk

2 cups flaked crabmeat (one 13 oz. can) ,

with tissue removed
1 large bunch celery, chopped
Vz green pepper, chopped

1 large pimiento (% can), chopped
Vz cup blanched almonds, quartered
4 hard- cooked eggs, chopped

2 tsp. salt

2 tbsp. butter

Vz cup fine dry bread crumbs

8 lettuce cups

1 cup mayonnaise

Vz cup chopped sweet pickles

Make a White Sauce by melting Vz cup
butter in saucepan, blending in flour, and
slowly adding milk. Cook until thick-
ened, stirring constantly. (Cook about 10
minutes over direct heat or 20 minutes
over hot water to eliminate raw taste.)
Blend crabmeat, celery, green pepper, pi-
miento, almonds, eggs, and salt into White
Sauce. Pour into a buttered TVz by 12
inch shallow baking dish. Melt 2 tbsp.
butter in frying pan. Stir in bread crumbs,
and mix well. Sprinkle buttered crumbs
over the crabmeat mixture in the baking
dish. Bake 35 minutes in a moderate
oven, 350° F. Serve hot in crisp lettuce
cups garnished with special mayonnaise
made by blending chopped sweet pickles
into plain mayonnaise. This makes 8 gen-
erous servings.

For dessert, our "Blondie" had a favorite
cake, made with applesauce, which she
claims even her cartoon character would
have no trouble with. Here it is:

APPLESAUCE CAKE

Vz cup shortening
2 cups sugar

Free Recipes

Menus for Two Weeks!

This is the time of year when frantic cooks
are saying "There just isn't anyfhing new
to cook!" Families are tired of winter
vegetables cooked the same old way, and
every taste needs to be tempted by
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covering two weeks make it positive that
you won't repeat. They aren't expensive
or exotic, but they are good and they
are different. If you would like to have
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Betty Crocker,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway,
New York City.
Dear Betty Crocker,

Please send me, without charge, your
menus for two weeks.

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1 egg

IV2 cups unsweetened applesauce

2% cups cake flour

or 2x/2 cups all-purpose flour

% tsp. salt

Vz tsp. cinnamon

Vz tsp. cloves

Vz tsp. allspice

1 cup chopped raisins
Vz cup broken walnuts

2 tsp. soda

Vz cup boiling water

Cream shortening, add sugar, gradually,
and cream thoroughly. Blend in well
beaten egg. Add cooled applesauce. Sift
flour once before measuring. Use a little
of the flour to dredge fruit and nuts. Sift
remaining flour with salt and spices. Dis-
solve soda in boiling water. Add flour
mixture to the creamed mixture alter-
nately with the water. Add the floured
raisins and nuts. Pour into well greased
and floured 8 by 12 inch pan. Bake 1
hour in a moderate oven, 350° F.

NOTE: If only Vz recipe is used, bake
45 minutes in 8 by 8 inch pan.

Applesauce: Wipe, quarter, core and
pare 6 to 8 sour apples. Put in saucepan
with just enough water to prevent apples
from burning (about Va cup) . Cover, and
cook to a mush stirring occasionally. This
makes \Vz cups applesauce for Applesauce
Cake.

MOCHA ICING

6 tbsp. butter

1 egg yolk

3 cups confectioners' sugar

\Vz tbsp. cocoa

Wz tbsp. hot coffee

Cream the butter, and blend in the egg
yolk. Sift sugar and cocoa together, and
add to the butter-egg yolk mixture alter-
nately with the hot coffee. Beat until
smooth.

Swiss Family Jloliin-
son in Hollywood

[Continued from page 30]

may heaven forgive him, waved a signal.
Pzzzzzst — crrrash! a thunderbolt of blind-
ing intensity splintered a tree that went
boom into the lagoon and your correspon-
dent, allergic to thunder showers, darn
nigh followed suit. Don't talk to me about
realism on the screen. My hair won't lie
down flat yet.

All in all, it was one of the worst tem-
pests that ever swept the Indian Ocean or
a sound stage. That tempest demolished
the boat which the Swiss Family Robinson
were building in an attempt to return to
civilization from the luxurious desert
island which producers, Gene Towne and
Graham Baker, had whipped up for them —
at a cost of $300,000. It also demolished
every idea held by the shipwrecked
parents and their four boys about leaving
the island, except by a chance rescue ship.

Not that Father Robinson wanted to be
rescued. But of course you know the story.
Still, in case you don't, here it is in brief.

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Written in 1812 by Johann David Wyss,
a Swiss, it is still (even after 120 years)
the world's best seller next to the Bible.
It has been translated into nearly every
language, yet this, the first producing
venture of the screen-writing team of
Towne and Baker, is the first time the
story has been put upon the screen.

The tale begins in London during the
year 1811; a time singularly like our own.
Across the English Channel, Napoleon
sought to dominate Europe and many a
thinking man longed for some Utopia far
from wars and rumors of wars. Father
William Robinson (Thomas Mitchell), a
wealthy Swiss watchmaker, sees his family
growing away from him. His wife, Lady
Elizabeth (Edna Best), and his second
son, Jack (Freddie Bartholomew), are
caught up in the extravagant and silly
world of fashion. Fritz, his eldest (Tim
Holt) , is in military school learning to
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Kilburn) , is a young literary prig. Francis,
the 2-year-old (Bobby Quillan, also a
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uttered a word, but his father gloomily
expects some kind of a surprise when he
does begin to speak.

Resolved to save his family from them-
selves, Father sells his business and books
passage to Australia, then an outpost of
the Empire, for the lot of them. Shipwreck
in the tropics brings the family to a lush
and lovely desert island where — after sal-
vaging goods and domestic animals from
the wreck and building themselves a tree
house — they find independence and sim-
plicity. But wife Elizabeth remains dis-
contented until the almost fatal illness of
young Ernest from a spider bite draws the
family more closely together and they are
one in spirit at last.

The wife has become self-reliant and
gracious, the boys manly, before an Eng-
lish ship drops anchor off the island. Here
is the chance for passage to London!
Father Robinson bids them return — but
he has found paradise; he will stay. Eliza-
beth, Ernest, and little Francis likewise
refuse to leave but Father Robinson sends
the elder sons back to win wives and
careers. They will return for visits from
time to time; and other colonists will ar-
rive, to find the peace which has come to
the Robinsons.

|j To re-tell this enlightening narrative,
the studio built almost 100 sets which
ranged from a stupendous tamarind forest
to a sinister cave. And it is doubtful
whether the Robinsons themselves had a
livelier time taming their island than the
players had in re-living the Robinson ad-
ventures— adding unintentionally a few of
their own.

The most unusual set was that jungle
and lagoon. Big enough to get lost in, it
abounded in palm-trunk bridges to be
walked over gingerly, treacherous mossy
banks, tree ferns, brilliantly blossoming
undergrowth, and enough fauna of enough
different varieties to stock a respectable
zoo.

Exotic critters, too. Unlikely whatnots,
including birds. For half an hour you'd
sit beside an improbably colored heron
effigy, wishing it had some kind of mech-

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anism so it could move and look real, and
when you turned your head away the dog-
gone thing would nip you on the ear. It
was real! And, too, there was Fifi, the
ostrich.

H They wanted an ostrich that would
lay an egg at the proper time (no
mean cinema feat in itself) and that wasn't
camera shy. Fifi. doesn't object to the
camera. Given the opportunity, however,
she will bite a chunk from the camera-
man just for fun, or kick him violently in
the stomach. Like all her ilk she has the
kick of a mule. To restrain Fifi's playful-
ness they kept her hooded most of the
time. When she left the set they backed
her out so that her long, tough legs
couldn't go into unexpected action.

Her owner appeared solicitous lest Fifi
be frightened. But Fifi looked upon her
surroundings with pleasure and her fellow
actors with disdain. It was her fellow
actors who were scared to death of her.

Oddly enough, this island stocked with
real and authentic flora and fauna, is an
imaginary place so far as the map is con-
cerned. Major C. S. Ramsay-Hill, techni-
cal advisor, globe-trotter, English officer
in the first world war, had the job of se-
lecting a site for the kind of island des-
cribed in the Swiss Family story. He
"located" it somewhere in the tropics and
in the Indian Ocean where it would have
only two seasons, wet and dry.

H The sea-washed dot of jungle is in
strong contrast with the opening
scenes. Here we behold Father Robinson
in his London clock shop, surrounded by
$75,000 worth of rare and real Swiss time-
pieces of the Napoleonic era. His clothes
(designed by Ramsay-Hill with the aid of
descriptive cables from England) include
a copy of the braided coat worn by Prince
Esterhazy, Hungarian diplomat and noted
London fop.

It was the heyday of Beau Brummell and
of skin tight trousers. Freddie Bartholo-
mew, as a young man of fashion, wears a
reproduction of Brummell's favorite attire.
Terry Kilburn (he's the lad, you recall,
who with that shy, appealing smile said,
"Goodbye, Mr. Chips" in the picture of
that name) wears a swank velvet suit
copied from Lawrence's portrait of the
Honorable George Lambton; and Tim
Holt, as the military cadet, is in a snug
uniform plus gold buttons and trig leg-
gings.

■ It's the men in this picture — not the
ladies — who had to have "leaning
chairs" between sequences because their
clothes were too tight to sit down in. Be-
fore they got into the loose buckskin out-
fits of their desert island days, Mitchell
declared he wouldn't pick up a lady's
handkerchief for a thousand dollars. "My
face turns red," he confessed, "every time
I hear a sound like ripping cloth."

Sartorially, the ladies fared better.
Eddie Stevenson, RKO designer, copied
Edna Best's fascinating pastel-colored
gowns from those of Mme. Recamier and
the Empress Josephine. But these Empire
frocks weren't meant for walloping round
through lagoons and underbrush; despite

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her love of style, "Elizabeth" was glad
enough on the island to sew deerskins to-
gether and "get into something com-
fortable."

H You can imagine how those modish
London clothes, both male and female,
looked after the shipwreck! The wreck —
the result, not of the lightning storm on
the island, but of a previous gale at sea —
sends mountainous billows over the brig's
deck and is as stirring a sequence of its
sort as you're likely to find. They couldn't
depend on a real wrecked ship staying
afloat long enough, so they built merely
the hold of the "Flying Swan" and let the
waves beat over it while the Robinsons
clung to the rail and to one another. When
the waves subsided next dawn, Father
Robinson and his sons rescued the live-
stock that splashed about in the flooded
hold.

The hold was dank and chilly. It held
two cows, a bull, a donkey, scores of
ducks, geese and chickens, some sheep,
two dogs — one of them the grandson of
the Great Dane that appeared with
Freddie five years ago in Little Lord
Fauntleroy. Freddie is 15 now, and almost
6 feet tall!

Every once in a while the Swiss Family
Robinson would swoosh out of the hold
between takes, wrap up in blankets, and
hop over to a salamander stove. They
sloshed around in the water all day and
drank nearly 10 gallons of hot chocolate
to take off the chill.

During this sequence Freddie was sup-
posed to save Father Robinson, who had
fallen overboard. An ardent admirer of
Thomas Mitchell's acting, Freddie noted
approvingly with what vigor Father
struggled and kicked, exactly as if he
were strangling. As a matter of fact, he
was. Freddie in his enthusiasm had
gripped Mitchell so firmly around the neck
that the actor couldn't breathe.

But a still bigger moment arrived when
Freddie and Terry Kilburn made water
wings from kegs and rescued Lady Godiva.
Lady Godiva, a small black and white
pig, didn't care to be rescued. She liked
the wreck. Each time when they hauled
her from the hold — an S. P. C. A. repre-
sentative looking after her interests but
not, as Terry pointed out, after theirs —
she eluded them, skidded down the slant-
ing deck with indignant squeals and
scuttled back to her cage.

"I object to this pig hogging the scene!"
Freddie protested. As he spoke, he lost
his balance on the slippery deck and
bumped into Terry. Together, yelling and
laughing, they tobogganed to the rail. Dur-
ing subsequent swoops upon the kittenish
Lady Godiva, this slide to the rail became
practically a routine and more than once
the cameras had to stop till boys and
cameramen could curb their glee. The
delay was the worse, from Director Ed-
ward Ludwig's point of view, because
Freddie as "Jack" is supposed to originate
the saying (popular since "Swiss Family"
was first published) : "I'll do it before you
can say 'Jack Robinson.' "

| Another sequence full of excitement,

though for different reasons, was the

one where Terry and tiny Bobby Quillan

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113 S. Jefferson St. Dept. 230-C, CHICAGO,

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Use Lavena, for a few days in-
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This Old Treatment Often
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There is nothing else like this copyrighted new TEL-A-
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Cash When Sick

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Sick benefits up to $100 a month when you are laid
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so write today.

(the 2-year-old "Francis Robinson") dis-
cover the cave. Terry (as "Ernest") is
after butterflies, and he sees a beauty in
the cavern's depths.

It is a swell cave. The rock strata are
oyster white and clay color and faint rose;
there are grotesque rock formations, and
the place has an air of menace. One of the
technicians with a bottle of rubber cement
and a hand electric-fan stood creating
spider webs for its interior with a flick
of his wrist. In due time Terry enters with
net poised, and with little Bobby (nephew
of Eddie Quillan and the 13th of the family
to become an actor) at his heels. As
"Francis," you recollect, the baby has
never uttered a word though he has a
smile that would melt the heart of a stone
idol. "Francis" didn't speak — though he
didn't smile — even when he was nicked
in one sequence by a rubber crab care-
fully concocted, with an eye to harmless-
ness, in the research department.

But now he catches sight of an enormous
spider dropping from the cave roof. "Bug!
Bug!" he cries, tugging at Ernest's sleeve.

Astonished that his baby brother has
at last begun to talk, Terry nevertheless
shushes him. The butterfly mustn't get
away! But, as Terry catches the butter-
fly, the spider catches Terry — on the back
of the neck. A little later, Terry staggers
and falls. Bobby, terrified, runs on fat
small legs to summon the family. By the
time Ernest recovers from the spider bite,
"Francis" is talking fluently.

| Another sequence that stands out is
the dinner party given as a house-
warming when the tree residence is fin-
ished. The family dresses in London at-
tire: Father and boys in tones of rich
brown and blue, the mother in a low-
necked pearly gown that would have
graced an affair at Court. Deep in the
heart of a gargantuan hollow tamarind is
their spacious dining-room. A mellow light
floods it, partly sunset, partly salvaged
lamps.

The great roots of the tree have been
hewn into steps. Bird boxes with the sons'
names have been prankishly perched at
different levels in the branches where
the members of the family have their pri-
vate apartments. A veranda is to be con-
structed. The place, at last, is "home."

The family is gathered to eat the first
meal that the mother, ever cooked in all
her life. A meal? Well, it's a fish soup —
she hopes. But she has seasoned it so
zealously, with so many queer condi-
ments, that the result is just about in-
edible. The family is supposed to make
wry faces at the first taste.

But the prop man who supplied the soup
had a good, kind heart. He served a really
delicious fish chowder. The assembled
actors, hungry after several hours' work,
gobbled it down with never a sign of re-
luctance.

Director Ludwig ordered a retake. The
prop man served more chowder. But this
time the family had no trouble register-
ing anguished surprise. He had doused
it with vinegar.

Oh, well, life on a desert island — even
an air-conditioned desert island in Holly-
wood is full of the unexpected.

NOW YOU CAN HAVE

THE £ficiMt(£af:io<n
c@bea*n THE STARS
ACTUALLY USE!

ANN SHERIDAN1,

starring in the cur-
rent Warner Bros.
picture, "YEARS
WITHOUT DAYS."

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READ Perc Westmore's Make-up Guide— Tells
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of your type . . . has measuring wheel to show
you your face type. At your drug
or variety store or send 25$ to
House of Westmore, Inc., Dept.
D-31, 730 Fifth Ave., New York.

^*Westmore«

HOLLYWOOD

CORNS

Try This NEW Amazingly Quick Relief!

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office models— up-to-date improvements— standard key- .«A UUKt
board, back spacer, ribbon reverse, 2 color ribbon, etc. Never before sucb rock-
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Ten day trial. Easiest terms in history — as low as 50c a week.
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■»■

Charlie's Night Out

When they finished shooting
Charlie McCarthy*, Detec-
tive* Charlie demanded, and
got, a gay night out with Ken
Murray and Edgar Bergen

Charlie's first disappoint-
ment "Milk for a man-
a bout-town! A scandal!"

"Whatever it is, I'll take
it!" says Charlie, eager
for a little fast action

The Downey sisters seem
sympathetic but Ken
and Edgar appear sulky

"What beautiful palms you
havfl!" says smooth and
silver - tongaed McCarthy

"Wine, women and song!
This is the life," says
Charlie with conviction

"Milk is swell, so long as
I don't have to drink it"

Rounder McCarthy home
at last, ready to call it a
day. Ken and Ed gar agree

(.ONTca

, %0

m^t0r m-

■v.

*, + ■' :J^^T'

Jb.

ACTUAL COLOR PHOTOGRAPH ■

Bennett Partin, North Carolina
tobacco farmer, shows flowering
tobacco plant — from which seeds
are obtained. U. S. Government
methods of raising tobacco are

used on Mr. Partin's farm.
Below: Mr. M. J. Moye in action.

LENT

A
HAND

making tobacco better-than-ever

and Luckies have bought the cream
of these better-than-ever crops," says
M. J. Moye, warehouseman for 18 years

SMOKER : " Ho w did Uncle Sam lend a hand?"

MR. MOYE: "The U. S. Government Experi-
ment Stations showed farmers new methods
of growing tobacco."

SMOKER: "And that's why you say crops
have improved in recent years?"

MR. MOYE: "Yes. Even though crops do
vary with weather — tobacco today is better
than ever."

SMOKER: "Does the tobacco that goes intp
Luckies come from these improved crops?"

MR. MOYE: "Yes, sir. Luckies always have
bought the finer tobacco sold on my ware-
house floor. That's the reason I've smoked
them myself for years. And it's also the rea-
son why Luckies are the 2-to-l favorite of
independent tobacco men — buyers, auction-
eers and warehousemen."

Try Luckies for a week. You'll find they're
easy on your throat — because the "Toasting"
process takes out certain harsh throat irri-
tants found in all tobacco.

You'll also find out why— WITH MEN WHO

KNOW TOBACCO BEST-IT'S LUCKIES 2 TO 1

Have you
tried a

LUCKY

lately?

*»

Cajywtto l!M0. The Amerir mi, I I .

ONLY 5 CENT MOVIE MAGAZINE IN THE WORLD

TTTLLYWOOO

I HOLLYWOOD QUIZ

IY RADIO'S EXPERTS OF

.CRAWFORD

That is why REAL LIFE
STORY goes to life itself for
its material. Life and love as
they are lived and experienced
by real men and women are
the ingredients that make
every story in this magazine
vital, thrilling and completely
absorbing.

Here is a challenge to women
everywhere. Begin any one
story in this new magazine,
and we defy you to put the
magazine aside without read-
ing every word in every story,
from cover to cover!

The April issue of REAL
LIFE STORY is now on sale
everywhere for only 10 cents.
In it you will find twelve com-
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novel. There are no serials.

You won't want to miss
such stirring stories from
life as "i drove her to his

ARMS," "TRAPPED BY
MY SINFUL PAST/'
and "l HUNGERED
FOR HIS KISSES."

Her Pinafore Frock said "Linger"
but her Lovely Smile added "For Keeps"!

• Very young and very
feminine— a crisp navy
taffeta pinafore jrock with
white organdy guimpe.

Your smile is your own priceless "exclusive" —
Help guard it with Ipana and Massage!

A DRESS straight out of Vogue or a hat
. from Harper's glamorous pages can
give a girl the proper start. But there's noth-
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For not even a "sixth sense" in style can
win for the girl who lets her smile become
dull and lifeless . . .who doesn't take proper
care of her teeth and gums . . . who ignores
the warning of "pink tooth brush."

Take a leaf out of her book— and profit
from it! For your smile is you— lose it and
you lose one of your most appealing charms!

Never Ignore "Pink Tooth Brush"

If your tooth brush shows a tinge of "pink"
— see your dentist! It may mean nothing seri-

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For Ipana is designed not only to clean
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Feel that wonderful tang, exclusive with
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ALWAYS SEPU5

A MAN AND A WOMAN
fleeing nameless terror. . . through angry
seas and the tropics' dangers... yearn-
ing for the peace they had never known ,
the happiness they could find only in
each other's arms . . .You'll remember
this star -crowded Metro - Goldwyn -
Mayer picture as one of the great
emotional experiences of the year!

CLARK

JOAN

GABLE CHAWF ODD

in Metro-Gold-wyn-Mayer s Dramatic Triumph

-with IAN HUNTER

PETER LORRE-PAUL LUKAS

ALBERT DEKKER • J. EDWARD BROMBERG
EDUARDO CIANNELLI

A FRANK BORZAGE Production

Screen Play by Lawrence Hazard • Directed by Frank Borzage

Based on the Book "Not Too Narrow, Not Too Deep" by Richard Sale

Produced by Joseph L. Mankiewicz

APRIL#1940

Vol. 29 No. 4

W. H. FAWCETT, Publisher

LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor
Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Lya's Lively Career by Ian Duncan 12

Boy Wonder (Orson Welles) by Duncan Underhill 14

"Information Please" Quiz by Wilbur Morse, Jr. 19

Romero — Dancing Romeo by John R. Franchey 21

How To Be an Easter Egg (Mischa Auer) by Kay Proctor 22

Back Into Time — 1,000,000 Years by Jessie Henderson 26

Joan Crawford's "Houseguest" by Sonia Lee 28

The Art of Mr. Donlevy by Thomas Nord Riley 30

My Son, My Son by E. J. Smithson 32

On Location at Virginia City by John Hilder 34

PICTORIAL FEATURES

Deanna's New Spring Clothes 24

Dr. Cyclops °°

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Elmer Sunfleld 6

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 10

The Show Goes On by The Editor 16

Bouquets on Your Budget by Ann Vernon 40

Fixin's for Baked Ham by Betty Crocker 48

Movie Crossword 50

M-G-M imports a beauty of the
ballet, Irina Baranova, for an exotic
role in Florian, soon to be released

RALPH DAIGH, Manasing Editor

GORDON FAWCETT, Hollywood ManaSer

CHARLES RHODES, Staff Photosrapher

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Faweett 'Publications, Inc., 1100 West Broadway, Louisville, Ky. Printe6S4rf^U. S. A. Entered as second class matter at the post
office at Louisville, Ky., under the act of March 3, 1870, with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 10-10 by Faweett Publications, Inc. W. \H. Faweett, Publisher; Elliott
Odell, Advertising Director. General offices. Faweett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Trademark registered in L'. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and
possessions; $1.00 in Canada; foreign subscription $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich,
Conn. Single issues five cents. Advertising forms close on the 18th of third month precedipg date of issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence
concerning subscriptions to Faweett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Advertising offices: New York; 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 300 N. Michigan Ave.; San Francisco, Simpson-Reilly, 1014
Buss Building; Los Angeles, Simpson-Reilly, Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices, 1501 Broadway, New York City; Hollywood office, SS.jj Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. California.

«P

'&*«>

SAe: Imagine spending a vacation right
in the Rockies where it's cool and invig-
orating! And think of the thrill of rid-
ing that beautiful Denver Zephyr from
Chicago to Denver.
He: And is it a honey! Diesel-powered,
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more than a thousand miles just over-
night! That saves a day each way!
She: More time to see all the sights. Denver
and its mountain parks, Colorado Springs,
Pikes Peak, Boulder, Estes Park —
He: George Simms says the cost of a
Colorado trip is surprisingly low. Let's
clip the coupon and get the illustrated
booklet and rate information.
• • •
Burlington's special summer fares to
Colorado are surprisingly low. And
whether you ride the Zephyr or a fine
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Travel independently or join a Bur-
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arranged in advance, relieving you of
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ton gives you the greatest travel value.

GOING TO SAN FRANCISCO WORLD'S FAIR?

Cool Colorado is right on the way. Enjoy a visit in
this enchanting playground. Thence, through the
heart of the glorious Colorado
Rockies and the spectacular
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over one of the country's most
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MAIL THIS COUPON TODAY

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Burlington Travel Bureau

Room 441, 547 W. Jackson Blvd.
Chicago, Illinois

Send me your free illustrated booklets, rates
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Name .

Street and Number

City State

□ Check here for special information about
All-expense Escorted Tours

i:NinvM«]»];i4v»^^

By ELMER SUNFIELD

!; J Calling all cars and detectives! Alice
Faye would like to discover the
whereabouts of one of her admirers by
the name of "Rosalie." Rosalie, for the
past four years, has been sending Alice
gifts on her birthday, Easter, Christmas,
and wedding anniversaries. Recently,
Alice received a hand-knit sweater. In-
closed with the gift was an apologetic note
stating that the giver was sorry she
couldn't do better but times were hard
and would Alice believe that the spirit in
which the gift was given was the same as
ever? Alice would like to meet Rosalie,
but the only clue to where she lives is the
Los Angeles postmark on packages. Come
on, Rosalie, roll up that curtain of secrecy
so that you can meet one of the finest gals
in Hollywood!

H Imagine Rita Hayworth's embarrass-
ment! Rita was trying on an evening
gown at one of our swanky stores. She
paraded up and down the room and then
stopped and giggled with two girl friends
who were seated in the shop waiting for
her. Apparently the manager was new,
because she thought Rita was one of the
models, and proceeded to give her a first-
class dressing down for dressing up and
being too friendly with the customers!
Rita, amused by the tirade, pretended she
was angry, sassed the manager back, and
promptly got "fired." A salesgirl finally
got things straightened out, the manager
apologized profusely— and Rita bought
three gowns instead of the one she orig-
inally had planned to buy to prove that
she really wasn't offended.

I Ssh! Bob Taylor has designs on his
lovely wife, Barbara Stanwyck! Bob
has taken up jewelry designing and spends
his spare time figuring out pretty doodads
for his wife to wear.

U Saw Arthur (Dagwood) Lake on the
Blondie set the other day and he told
this one on his little niece.

Seems she gets three cents allowance
every week from her mother, Florence,
for being a good girl. Arthur says he
asked her where she was going to spend
all that money, and she replied, soberly,
"Oh, I'm saving it — you never know where
you are in this lousy business!"

X To initiate his off-with-the-old-on-
with-the-new policy of romancing for
1940, Cary Grant is seen these nights
squiring Fay Wray hither and yon among
the nightspots. But Cary isn't fooling any-
one, least of all himself. The lady of his
heart is Phyllis Brooks, regardless of the
fact that her intent to wed him has been
postponed.

■ If you're a horse opera fan you'll be
interested in what Paramount says
about Bill Boyd.

Bill has played Hopalong Cassidy 30
times in the past six years. During that
period he has ridden his horse, Topper,

more than 2,800 miles and corraled 28
gangs of cattle rustlers, range crooks and
outlaws. During all of this hectic six-
gunning and riding, he's never kissed a
heroine except the one time when he
kissed Evelyn Brent on the forehead
during a death scene.

E If you get a chance, peek over Bing
Crosby's shoulder the next time you
catch him reading a newspaper. It's fifty
to one that you'll find him looking at the
racing news or the classified ad section.

"Next to the racing news," Bing will
explain, "the classified ads are the most
interesting parts of a newspaper. You run
across a lot of intriguing stories there. I've
been reading them for years."

Bing's four sons have inherited their
father's love for horseflesh. All of his boys
have mounts of their own. Even the
youngest son, Lindsay, age two, jogs
around the backyard, strapped to the
saddle.

Bing spends every Thursday morning at
Santa Anita during the racing season, and
his four sons climb out of bed and go along.
They are not allowed to stay for the races,
but Bing lets them wander around the
stables early in the morning. During the
workouts, they are about the most ex-
cited group of youngsters you ever saw
when they can sit on the rail with their
dad while he holds the stop watch on his
thoroughbreds during their time trials.

U Wayne Morris is proudly showing the
medal he won as the champion diaper
changer of Hollywood. Seems Wayne
made a bet of $10.00 that he could change
diapers quicker than any of his pals who
are proud papas, and they took him up.

King Mickey Rooney bestows a congratu-
latory kiss on Queen Bette Davis after
they were voted favorite stars of 1939
in a poll of a million newspaper readers

Oh, the "Road to Singapore"
Is a picture you'll adore . . .

If it's laughter you are after

You'll be rolling on the floor . .

Join us somewhere East of Suez
On our tuneful tropic tour . . .

And you'll lose those winter bluez
As your heart thrills to Lamour

Just a couple of hitch hikers
on the "Road to Singapore"

DOROTHY LAMOUR

who causes that traffic jam
on the "Road to Singapore'

mMi^vmm

**?SPJ5=Sias?s

Directed bY

.Vnt-W0"1?^-. — "-"■""

SARONGS . ■ . . SARONGS

.AND MORE SARONGS

USE

IRRESISTIBLE LIPSTICK

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The producer-star newlyweds, Walter
Wanger and Joan Bennett, pose for
wedding pictures at her Hollywood home

Using Wayne's son as the subject of the
experiment, and with Allen Jenkins, Bing
Crosby, Andy Devine, Henry Wilcoxon
and Dick Powell each taking their turns
at the task, Wayne came through the
winner by diapering his youngster in
twenty seconds flat according to the stop
watch held by Jeffrey Lynn. Any of you
young papas ever do better?

■ It started as a gag, with somebody
suggesting, over a dinner table, that

"Slow-Burn" Edgar Kennedy ought to
endorse a slow-burn tobacco. An enter-
prising youngster heard about the quip,
and sought out the actor. Result — in a
short while, cigar stands throughout the
country will be stocked with "Edgar
Kennedy's Slow-Burn Tobacco," and a
quick-witted college boy will have made
himself a neat piece of change.

M If by chance — or good luck — any of
you Hollywood tourists visit the Gold-
wyn Studios, be sure to stop long enough
for a chat with Alec Gorin, the gateman.
You'll find him one of the most interesting
men on the lot. Alec was once a member
of the secret police under the Czars.
Hollywood's pet name for him is the G-sky
Man-sky of the Lens-skys.

■ These death-defying Hollywood stunt
men are a queer bunch. Take Harvey

Perry, stocky, athletic dean of the select
fraternity of men who will try anything
once. Perry has driven a car over a 50-foot
cliff, has stood within a foot of a spot
where a three-stick charge of dynamite
was fired, has ridden motorcycles through
walls of brick and light plaster and per-
formed countless other stunts equally as
dangerous. But he's scared stiff of a

barber's razor! The reason? "Well," he
explains, "I once heard a wild yarn about
a barber who went screwy while shaving
a customer. And now I even hate to have
my hair cut!"

And take Duke Green. Duke would be
willing to stand on his head atop the
Empire State's mooring mast. He'd wel-
come a chance to jump from the Brooklyn
bridge, or whip a car into a spectacular
turn-over down a cliff, but he gets fright-
ened into a deep chill every time he thinks
about being buried alive. Recently he was
called in to do a scene in which he was to
be "buried" in a dugout by a shell ex-
plosion. He couldn't do it. He chose, in-
stead, to do a "dead man fall" through a
window to a paved courtyard 15 feet
below. "It was a cinch!" Duke said.

And consider "Sailor" Vincent. The
Sailor has established the reputation of
being the toughest of the Hollywood
wrecking crew, but he's a veritable sissy
when it comes to heights. He'll do any-
thing in the world, anything that calls for
cool, unadulterated nerve, calm thinking
and lightning-fast decision, but he won't
jump off a five-foot platform! He turns
cold all over when he even looks down
from a window two floors above ground.
He likes to tell the following story about
this fear of his.

"Billy Jones and Yakima Canute, two
of my practical joking buddies, thought
they'd cure me of this fear one night. We
were playing a little penny-ante game of
cards in a friend's apartment, located
three flights up over a garden that was
filled with little trees and bushes. Sud-
denly Billy and Yakima picked me up
and darned if they didn't chuck me right
out of the window! I never did go back
to finish that hand. I didn't get hurt a bit,
[Continued on page 51]

A picturesque marriage chapel in Glen-
dale was the scene of the Jane Wyman
and Ronald Reagan wedding ceremony

No U*

> . - •-

Jiti

ERROL

Here-and brilliantly-is the
breathless saga of the gal-
lant 73 who charged through
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West.. history's epic of the
City of Gold that was built
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MIRIAM

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with RANDOLPH

SHUI

HUMPHREY

IfflM

FRANK MeHUGH'ALAN HALE
GUINN "Big Boy" WILLIAMS
Directed by
MICHAEL CURTIZ >-«f

" '"''"' ■ :,.!•

1 "iHM1- *. Hi

- : ■■.

Original Screen Play by Robert Buckner • Music by Max Steiner • A Warner Bros. First National Picture

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IISI&ltlLUZrfliJniiJtl*]

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

J Outstanding, not only among this sea-
son's pictures, but among all of the
pictures ever turned out in Hollywood is
The Grapes of Wrath, and I venture to
predict that, 50 years from now, it will
have a prominent place in the histories of
Hollywood as one of the great milestones
in the labored coming-of-age of the in-
dustry.

Until very recently, motion pictures,
almost without exception, avoided all con-
troversial subjects. Politics were taboo.
War was shunned except as a prettified
background for a hero who never was
more than insignificantly injured. Poverty
was shown extensively at the beginnings
of pictures, but you were almost sure to
win money by betting that the heroine
would marry a millionaire in the last reel.
And a picture that did not have a happy
ending was considered an offense to the
box office.

There were some magnificent excep-
tions. All Quiet On the Western Front
and Journey's End are two of the great
films which left permanent imprint on the
thinking of all of those who saw them.
A few years ago a new approach to sub-
ject matter for films began to evidence
itself. Warner Brothers, in particular, be-
gan to explore the whole untouched field
of current events with such films as I Am
a Fugitive From a Chain Gang, which
dealt with convict labor in the South, in
Little Caesar, first of the great gangster
pictures which had no little part in rous-
ing public feeling against graft in civic
affairs, callous corruption in certain city
governments. Zola was a passionate re-
telling of the shocking tale of racial preju-
dice. More recently, Columbia ventured a
sly, absorbing criticism of party political
machinery in Mr. Smith Goes to Wash-
ington. These outstanding films, and a
few ... a very few more . . . proved, by
the tremendous response from the public,
that America of today is eager for drama
that reflects problems with which we must
deal. We still love romances. We always
shall. We still love the happy endings.
Nothing is going to change the old human
habit of hope. But the whole country is
facing facts more steadily today than it
has for many years, and now, at long last,
no subject really vital to us is likely to
be banned from the screen.

The Grapes of Wrath proves that.

Faithfully, exactly, with a fine integrity,
John Steinbeck's book has been brought
to the screen with none of the punches
pulled, none of the issues evaded.

The film starts slowly, unsensationally.
Along a magnificent, great, smooth con-
crete highway clumps a pair of heavy
prison boots. There is a little airy chirp
from a hidden bird. There is soft wind over
the wide farm land. The sun shines
brightly on the polished gas station, on the
powerful truck in front of it. It looks fine to
a man just through with four years of
prison. It looks great, and Tom Joad is so
eager to be home that he does not notice

that the soil is powdery, that there is a
film of dust all over everything.

They had dusty days before he went to
prison. As more and more of the grazing
land in Oklahoma went under cultivation,
the dust became a nuisance in certain
times of the year. But the rains always
came and laid it, the crops came up, and
it wasn't much trouble until the dry sea-
son next year . . . too far ahead to worry
about.

But those four years away from the
world had made a frightening change, not
only for his family but for thousands of
people just like them. Bad year had fol-
lowed bad year. Homesteads that had been
held free and clear for several genera-
tions were mortgaged. More bad years
followed, and even the interest could not
be wrung out of the dry soil. The banks
were frightened, and, to save themselves,
turned thousands of small holdings over
to big land syndicates. The syndicates
■were frightened, and sent in men with
machines to try to produce a profit with
big business methods.

It was nobody's fault. No one was to
blame. But what were the Joads to do?
Where were the Joads to go?

The Joad family has been so brilliantly
cast and played and directed that it is
impossible to give top honors, though Jane
Darwell, as the courageous, unbeatable
Ma Joad, absorbs the mind because of her
vivid portrayal of the central character.
Some members of the family grew angry,
some complained, some were passive and
beaten by circumstances. Some just
drifted. But Ma did what had to be done
without wasting more than a touching
moment on regrets. It was Ma who thought
of getting Grampa (Charles Grapewin)
drunk on soothing syrup when he refused

Ginger Rogers in sweat shirt and rubber
boots waits for Joel McCrea's approval
of her costume for The Primrose Path

to leave the land where he had been born.
It was Ma who watched Grandma (Zeffie
Tilbury) die in the desert and then lied
to the border patrol so that the family
could get through to California. It was
Ma who never failed the family, even
when it began to break up under the
strain of hunger and hopelessness.

Henry Fonda has the simplicity and
directness of great acting as Tom who
was inexorably forced into the hunted
life of an outcast. Russell Simpson as Pa,
who had worked hard all his life, only to
find that his best was not good enough;
Dorris Bowden as the pathetic, childish
bride who wanted only a little house;
Eddie Quillan as the shallow-witted Con-
nie who planned with giddy hope to be a
mail order radio repair man; John Qualen
as the shaken Mulie who hung around his
wrecked homestead like a ragged ghost;
John Carradine as the unbalanced
preacher, all are so exceptionally fine that
anything but highest praise of their work
is impossible. The rest of the cast is packed
with wonderful little performances. Doz-
ens of splendid players appear for in-
stants only, contribute telling moments
to the film, withdraw. They are far too
many for individual credit, but this film
is well worth seeing a second time, just
for the purpose of examining the many
fine performances that are minor in time
only.

You will hear, particularly from native
Californians, the protest that The Grapes
of Wrath is a one-sided picture of a prob-
lem. That is true, because the story is the
history of dust bowl refugees in Cali-
fornia, not of the entire state. There isn't
time to show the confusion of the Joads
of another generation . . . the people who
had the luck or the wit to find themselves
a little holding in California while yet
there was time, or to show the problem of
the Californians who can take care of
themselves but who, no matter how sym-
pathetic, just do not have enough to care
for thousands and thousands of penniless
people.

John Steinbeck's book offered no solu-
tion. It was just a story of what is hap-
pening to tens of thousands of Americans.
The picture offers no solution, either. But
it ends with a promise.

In the last scene, the Joad family is once
more on its way in the fantastically
heaped truck that holds all of them and
their miserable possessions. Ma Joad lool;3
ahead down the wonderful, smooth high-
way. "Nothing can stop us!" she says. "Be-
cause we're the people. We go on and on.
We're the people that live."

You never can tell who's who in Holly-
wood, which is one good reason why you've
got to be careful what you say and why.
Kurt Simon, in his daylight hours, is a
27-year-old messenger boy out at War-
ners. He calls it a red-letter day if he
receives, just once, something better than a
"step lively, you!" from his superiors.

But at night he's something different.
Vastly different. He is the director of
television broadcasts over station W6XAO,
and his superiors, if they're lucky enough
to be on the show, "yes, sir" him all over
the station.

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Go by the smell test when you buy soap to
combat body odor. Instinctively you will
prefer the costly perfume of Cashmere Bou-
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Lya's Lively

Lya Lys wanted to be an international spy
when she was seventeen years old, but when
a foreign government finally did send for
her, she voieed a more than vigorous refusal

By IAN DUNCAN

H In the rich purple dusk of the
Mediterranean midwinter the dulcet
note of the stationmaster's whistle
signalled the engineer of the Paris night
express that the moment of departure had
arrived.

The brass band locomotive chuffed
authoritatively and the world's premier
luxury train slid smoothly out of Bar-
celona, its sleek salons and sleeping cars
aglitter with brilliant lights, rich appoint-
ments and the gaudiest collection of racy
folk on the face of Europe aboard.

The lounge car, the special gem of the
sleeping-car company, was the Louis-
Napoleon. It was filled beyond its seating
capacity with the rich and raucous upper-
crust of the continental underworld.

Munitions magnates, opium traders and
international pawnbrokers pored over
their late newspapers containing the
closing prices on the London share market

and the bourses of Paris, Amsterdam and
Brussels. At their sides, dressed and
coiffed like duchesses or demi-mondaines,
lolled the world's most beautiful and ex-
pensive women.

No vivid imagination was required to
perceive in the chromium-plated equipage
the ideal setting for a mystery story or
spy drama. Instinctively every passenger
on the Paris night express from Barcelona
felt that his neighbor in the lounge car was
a character out of E. Phillips Oppenheim,
and that Drawing Room A in the sleeping
car ahead was occupied jointly by
Operative J-16 of the F.B.I, and Cleek of
Scotland Yard.

On this historic journey of the Louis-
Napoleon, tucked away on an alcove divan,
speechless with joy and apprehension, was
a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl who will
presently emerge as the heroine of this
dime novel. She was a law student at the

University of Paris returning from her
winter vacation in Spain, which was also
her first unchaperoned skirmish with the
world.

Wearing severe tweeds, sensible shoes
and a frigid expression that said in all
languages, "Touch me not," she cowered
in a corner of the Louis-Napoleon, her
legs carefully uncrossed, and her eyes
riveted on The National Geographic
Magazine.

Fairly awash in a whirlpool of pluto-
crats, potentates and malefactors of all
stripes and hues, she became aware, as
the train flashed through the gathering
darkness, of a high-powered personality
sending out electrical impulses on her
wave-length.

Rigid with awe, she somehow lifted her
glance to discover that the neighboring
supercharged phenomenon was not a
snaky Eurasian swami, as she had half-
suspected, but what seemed to her to be
the loveliest woman this side of paradise.

Practically fainting with relief, the
schoolgirl flashed one of her toothiest
grins. The apparition from heaven smiled
back, and the ice was broken. From there
on the mismatched pair were pals, and
the career of the fledgling attorney, one
Mile. Lya Lys of the Sorbonne, got side-
tracked during the course of the journey.

Up until the Affair of the Louis-
Napoleon lounge, Mile. Lys, a Parisienne
of German birth and Russian parentage,
was dedicated to the Code Napoleon and
the civil and provincial ordinances of La

Belle France, not because she had any
special talent for courtroom bickering,
but because her parents had decreed she
must pursue a useful profession and be-
come eventually a steel girder in the social
structure of the republic.

| Lya's father, a preposterously wealthy
banker, and her mother, a practicing
physician with a vast record of accom-
plishment, were made of a durable alloy
that could not be warped to conform with
the plans of a pretty, blond daughter.
The daughter, according to their strict
continental tenets, was the plastic material
around the house, and they were deter-
mined to shape her into something useful.

At age ten, therefore, Lya was on
sparring terms with all the arts, sciences
and languages, and at fifteen, scarcely out
of the nursery, she was a full-fledged
freshman at one of the world's great uni-
versities. An imaginative kid with little
knowledge of the metropolises in which
she had lived and traveled, she staged a
quiet rebellion against the tyranny of
her parents and teachers, and found her
spiritual home in the paper-backed ad-
venture novels sold for a quarter on every
newsstand in Europe.

Thus, while she was supposed to be
drenching herself in the lore of torts and
habeas corpuses, she lived in her imagi-
nation the life of an inscrutable mystery
woman, wheedling her way with perfumed
kisses into the hearts of ambassadors,
generals and premiers.

The encounter in the lounge c^r of the
Barcelona express was the materialization
of a chapter from her dream world. The
lovely lady with the Mona Lisa smile
was a friend of Ivar Krueger, the Swedish
match king, at that moment one of the
most powerful political and financial
figures in Europe. She not only was adrip
with charm, personality and emeralds but
also with ancedotes about her sub-rosa
encounters, in Krueger's company, with
kings and cabinet members and interna-
tional scoundrels of all shapes and colors.

For the first time the shy little law
student got a glimpse behind the tarnished
tapestry of post-war big business and an
opportunity to perceive the hugely im-
portant part played by lovely ladies in
the great games of diplomacy, stock ex-
change raiding and high-minded larceny.

As dinner hour approached, Lya's
fascinating companion carted her off to
the most luxurious stateroom on the train
— really a suite, with a complete staff of
maid, hairdresser and secretary — and, lay-
ing out the lushest dinner dress in her
collection, turned the demure damosel
over to the expert ministrations of her
servants.

Thirty minutes later there emerged
from the royal suite a devastating blond
caricature of an adventuress — Miss Lys,
glowing like a marquee with diamonds and
sapphires and only faintly recognizable
under a layer of extravagantly applied
cosmetics.

[Continued on page 57]

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(NOT GOOD IN C

By DUNCAN UNDERBILL

M This is a picture of a young man out on a Hollywood
limb.
Not content with outdaring the brash young bucko on
the flying trapeze, Orson Welles is so exhilarated by the
challenge of his limb-walking stint that he has asked for a
longer and whippier limb. This is known in the movies as
sportsmanship, or suicidal mania.

To milk the metaphor, Orson is voluntarily subjecting
himself to a trial by ordeal, balancing his matronly figure
on the swaying branch of a sapling. Spread below him
are the assembled cannibal tribes of Hollywood, ready to
rend him with claw and fang if he makes a misstep.

On the other hand, if he succeeds in pulling off his stunt,
the denizens of the Hollywood jungle will hail him.
as a demi-god and tremble at his frown.

And Orson, like a true sportsman, is giving the
natives a run for their money. He not only strides
along his willowy perch with all the assurance of
Nelson pacing his quarter-deck but to add a fillip to
the perilous proceedings, breaks out now and again
with a fast Charleston, a handstand and a somersault.
Young Mr. Welles is a readily recognizable figure
in the national scrapbook. Lisping infants instantly

Boy Wonder

Orson Welles is only twenty-four
years old, but already he has
made a tremendous suecess as a
stage producer, and as an actor.
His vivid description of Martian
hordes landing in New Jersey was
the cause of panic in the east.
Now he is astounding Hollywood
14

identify him as the bearded youth who
climbed out of a radio loudspeaker and
seized the sovereign state of New Jersey
for the planet Mars.

Tabloid newspaper readers know him
as a conventional American who separated
from his wife during his first season in
Hollywood.

Many grown-ups recognize him as a
cannily perceptive editor of Shakespeare,
as a daring innovator in stage direction
and design, and as an actor whose stage
and radio performances have ranged from
stunningly good to all right.

Hollywood knows him as a young squirt
from back East who had the effrontery
to get hired on a four-way contract by
RKO-Radio Pictures at a fantastically
high wage.

Actor, author, producer, director are
the dire designations on his contract. A
Welles contract in any of these capacities
would have been enough to stoke fires of
envious rage in the bosoms of 21,000
Hollywoodites who learned about movies
at Edison's knee and closed their minds
on the subject in the fall of 1910.

These crotchety standpatters of the
cinema are the gentry who "ma-lioned"
Orson on his arrival in California, to
quote a word fabricated in the Welles
study on company time.

Unlike most visiting Elks, Four-Ply
Orson did not enter Hollywood on a tidal
wave of Scotch and honey calculated to
predispose the natives in his favor. On the
contrary, he arrived with a complete set
of actors under his arm, selected shock
troops from his own Mercury Theatre.

In addition to the players there is a
long personal Welles retinue. Quite the
most frightful of these is the fabled Vakh-
tangov, whose function is to scare visitors
to death. Welles tripped over this eerie
creature in a theatre a couple of seasons
ago and was "fascinated by his utter
emptiness." At the time the fellow had a
very ordinary name, something like Emil
Grindstone.

"A few trifling changes in your make-
up, Grindstone, and you'd fit very nicely
into my way of life," Welles suggested.
"First, you must get rid of that very un-
imaginative name. I think I shall call
you Vakhtangov in memory of a great
Russian director. And that mouse-brown
hair of yours must be dyed to a more
provocative color. I give you your choice
of Cabinet-Member Gray or Dynamite
Yellow."

Vakhtangov took dynamite yellow, with
the result that he looks like the King of
the Zombies as he goes about in Welles'
wake.

Every member of the cortege is richly
individualistic as Vakhtangov, although
all are not so pretty. From the outset of
his Hollywood career, Orson let it be
known that no local talent need apply.

No Hollywood scripters were required,
he also made clear, to prepare his yarns
for the camera. His initial vehicle was
already selected, a Joseph Conrad story
called Heart of Darkness. The shooting
script was to be prepared by the Welles-
Mercury method, which operates like a
[Continued on page 58]

JEAN ARTHUR

FRED MELVYN

MacMURRAY • DOUGLAS

Directed by WESLEY RU6GLES • Screen play by CLAUDE BINYON
Based on the play by W. Somerset Maugham • A COLUMBIA PICTURE

_____

__l

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Ask for Tangee Natural today. Try
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Name-

Street-
City —

ii:i*i:MYMeM:MM:i

By THE EDITOR

M This is being written at two o'clock
on a Friday afternoon. At 10:20 this
evening, the editor, tastefully done up in
a new if rather chilly suit, will look back
at the lights of New York as a plane takes
off from LaGuardia Field. Tomorrow
afternoon at 3:05 the plane will glide into
Hollywood's air terminal at Burbank. We
are old hands at flying back and forth
across the country, but we never fail to
marvel at the miracle of crossing this
vast land in one over-night hop. Perhaps
it is that extra five minutes that stuns us,
as much as anything. The plane doesn't
get in at three o'clock. Or three-thirty.
Or somewhere around four. No. It ar-
rives at 3:05 exactly.

Carelessly leaving our winter furs be-
hind us in the plane, we shall step out into
a blaze of southern sunshine, and, squint-
ing in the unaccustomed brilliance, look

around for Mr. Gordon Fawcett, head of
the Western office, who will be on hand,
we trust, with an extra pair of sunglasses.
After that, for two weeks, we shall be
checking up on all of the last minute news
for you, talking over story ideas with your
favorite writers, discussing plans and pic-
tures with stars, going to previews, driv-
ing down to Malibu to see if the Pacific
Ocean is still there, watching films being
made, and laying plans for Hollywood
Magazine for the summer months.

One of the first people we shall see is
Jessie Henderson, who wrote blithely that
she had a wonderful time laughing with
Priscilla Lane at a long luncheon while
they were discussing some of the startling
things Miss Lane did when she was a little
girl. That story is scheduled for next
month, and we shall whip it right off Miss
Henderson's typewriter and shoot it off to

Hedy Lamarr and Gene Markey gave New York a quick whirl when they arrived to
attend the world premiere of the Twentieth Century-Fox production, The Blue Bird

the printer so that you can share her
laughter without delay.

Kay Proctor has three new ideas for the
series which has drawn so many enthu-
siastic letters from all over the country.
We think that she will have a tough time
topping "How to be an Easter Egg" in
this issue, one of the funniest stories ever
printed in a movie magazine. Miss Proc-
tor also promises a lively story next month
called "Cary Grant Sounds Off." It seems
that the popular Mr. Grant has been
grumbling something awful about things
he thinks should be changed, so we are
going to give him the floor and let him
tell you about it.

Thomas Nord Riley, who wrote the de-
lightful story on page 30 about Holly-
wood's favorite villain, Brian Donlevy, is
preparing a searching analysis of Marlene
Dietrich in her new role of roustabout
heroine, and we, ourselves, hope to get
some definite information about The Dic-
tator. All we know now, is that Charlie
Chaplin hopes to spend at least three
months more on the filming and that he
will play not two, but three roles . . .
himself, a refugee who is mistaken for a
dictator and the dictator, too. Reginald
Gardiner . . . you know, the man who
imitates wall-paper . . . plays a pompous
field-marshal, and we hope he has a
chance to imitate a field, or something.
And we are very much in hope that we
shall have a chance to see Jack Oakie
playing a rival dictator. That fires the
imagination!

fVhy don't You try

init for the Bath

See Hollywood the

Fawcett Movieland

Tour Way

Would you like to see "in-
side" Hollywood? Would
you like to be entertained in
the home of a famous movie
player? How would you like
to meet your favorite stars and
visit a motion picture studio?
All this can be done on a
Fawcett Movieland Tour.
Plans for the tours are under
way, and now is the time to
start thinking about your trip
to Hollywood — the Movieland
Tour way! Be sure to read
full details in the May issue
of HOLLYWOOD Magazine.

Miss Elizabeth Stuyvesant Fish,

daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton
Fish of Washington, D. C, is a
popular debutante. Here, she and
some of her deb friends primp
between dances.

BUT BOJH HELP
KEEP THEIR SKIN FRESH

and young looking
WITH POND'S

QUESTION TO MISS FISH:

Miss Fish, when do you believe
a girl should begin guarding her
complexion with regular care?

ANSWER: "The younger the bet-
ter! I think if you want a nice
skin when you're older, you have
to take care of it when you're
young. That's why I began using
Pond's 2 Creams when I reached
my 'teens. Every girl wants a
lovely complexion! Using both
Pond's Cold Cream and Pond's
Vanishing Cream every day
helps to keep mine clear,"

QUESTION TO MISS FISH:

Would you describe what each
Pond's Cream does for your skin,
Miss Fish?

ANSWER: "Yes, of course. Every
morning and evening I use Pond's
Cold Cream to freshen up my
face. These regular cleansings
help keep my skin looking soft
and healthy. Pond's Vanishing
Cream serves an entirely different
purpose. I use it before powdering
to give my skin a soft finish that
holds powder smoothly for hours."

QUESTION TO MISS HOLDEN:

In your opinion. Miss Holden,
what things help most in a
career girl's success?

ANSWER: "Interest in her job,
willingness to work and a good
appearance! But nothing cheats
your looks like a dull, cloudy
skin, so you can bet I'm always
sure to use Pond's Cold Cream
to keep my skin really clean and
soft. I can count on it to remove
every trace ofdirtandmake-upl"

A Sunday ride in an open car is
fun — but chilly! When her young
man suggests stopping for "franks"
and hot coffee, Miss Holden

QUESTION TO MISS HOLDEN:

Doesn't the wind off Lake Erie
make your skin rough and diffi-
cult to powder?

ANSWER: "Well, Cleveland is
mighty breezy, but little skin
roughnesses don't worry me a
bit. I just use another Pond's
Cream to help smooth them
away ... by that I mean Pond's
Vanishing Cream. And besides
smoothing and protecting my
skin, it's perfect for powder base
and overnight cream because it'3
absolutely non-greasy!"

-.:'- .

Miss Holden entertains. The rugs
are rolled back, she takes her turn
at changing the records, and it's
"on with the dance" to the tune
of the latest swing!

POND'S, Dept. 6-CVD, Clinton, Conn.

cCfsjD FOK Rush special tube of Pond's Cold Cream, enough for

. .. 9 treatments, with generous samples of Pond's Van-

TRIAL ishing Cream, Pond's Liquefying Cream (quicker-

-P AllTY KIT melting cleansing cream), and 5 different shades of

■* Pond's Face Powder. I enclose 10t! to cover postage

and packing.

ft***""- , i M i I, i, ■ ■

Street— . .

City

-Slate-

Magazine's

"Information Please" Quiz

Above, John Kieran, Franklin P. Adams,
guesl expert Christopher Morley and
Oscar Levant during filming of one
of the Information Please shorts

■ His nose as red as a ripe tomato, a
cigar stuck jauntily in the side of his
mouth, a man walked in front of the table
at which were seated the all-knowing ex-
perts of Information Please and began to
juggle cigar boxes.

"Gentlemen, what actor does this panto-
mime remind you of?" queried Interlocu-
tor Clifton Fadiman.

The long, lean arm of Franklin P.
Adams, the eloquent F. P. A. of the New
York Post, waved in the air.

"William Claude Fields," drawled
Adams and stuck his own cigar back in
his wide, whimsical mouth.

"Very good, Mr. Adams. And now for
our next question . . ." The smooth, per-
suasive voice of Clifton Fadiman started
to outline another query when, from the
side of the stage, a little bearded man,
looking like a refugee from an Orson
Welles story conference, let out a cry that
sounded like the grinding gears of an old
car. Apparently the cast translated his
screech as "Cut," for they relaxed and the
cameras and sound recorders were re-
loaded.

The scene was the sound stage in New
York City where the experts of Radio's
outstanding quiz program were filming
the sixth of the Information Please shorts,
released by RKO. For ten minutes, the
time it takes to unwind a reel, or 1,000
feet of film, through cameras and sound
recorders, Fadiman had been shooting
questions at the Phi Beta Kappas of radio's
most popular classroom. Unprepared and
unrehearsed, just as they are on the air,
the engagingly erudite John Kieran, New
York Times sports editor; flippant Oscar
Levant, pianist-composer-author, looking,
in his make-up, like one of the frog-faced

Framed in the question mark is the
genial Clifton Fadiman, master of
ceremonies on the brilliant radio
program now seen also on the screen

sixty minutes of screen time would be cut
down to two separate reels to join the
parade of Information Please shorts that
have captivated the country's movie au-
diences as completely as the air show has
won radio renown. The Information
Please shorts, Ullman said, now ranked
second only to Disney's at the box office.

You can't be around a group of such
brilliant wits very long without catch-
ing some sort of an idea, and so, during
one of the recesses between "takes" we
conceived the idea of reserving the Infor-
mation Please formula, and having the ex-
perts propound instead of answer some
questions.

Here is the quiz the experts compiled

for Hollywood Magazine readers. We

suggest that it be used as a party stunt,

with the host acting as Clifton Fadiman

and three guests tolled off to impersonate

John Kieran, F. P. A., and Oscar Levant.

The essence of the Information Please

quiz on the air, and as a film, is its speed

butlers in Alice in Wonderland, and and spontaneity, so we recommend a time

Adams had been extemporizing answers limit of two minutes to each question. Cor-

with their inimitable versatility and wit. rect answers will be found on page 45.

Genial Christopher Morley, novelist, All ready? All right, here goes,

critic and essayist, whose best-seller, i. First, the experts want you to suppose
Kitty Foyle, had just been purchased by that you are building a house. Then they
RKO for Ginger Rogers, was the guest of want you to collect materials for your
the experts for this particular film, and house from the names of movie stars . . .
maintained a banter batting average far we'n give you a start with George
higher than most guest guessers. Raft(er). This is easy. You can get at

Six reels of questions and answers on least four,
every variety of subject from the stance

of former champion prize fighters to the

identification — by grimly munched sand-

wiches — of the various kind of cheese,

were filmed during one afternoon. Fred

Ullman, Jr., RKO-Pathe vice president

and producer of shorts, explained that the {Continued on page 42]

The experts of the famous
radio urogram, Information
Please, decided it would be
fun to ask some questions
for a change.' Here are the
puzzlers they thought up

By WILBUR MORSE, Jr.

I I

Romero - Dancing Romeo

He starred as a villain willi
iiianv a sn<K4*r an«l l«»or. Iml
now In- is an anlhonii«* lioari-
l»«*ai. and danHng Isad a lot
lo do willi llu» l»i« 4'lian^c

»> .ioii> it. i at v\< iiiy

<-■■

i C^V^V*"

■ For his first years in Hollywood, Cesar
Romero has been as capable a villain
as any director would want — dark, dia-
bolical, and direct, with a range of roguery
from mere vermilion to deep purple.

Behold him now being pushed into a
badman's oblivion.

On account of studio politics, perhaps?

Or a change in fashions of villainy,
maybe?

Or because he's too realistic and scares
the hats off of spinster ladies who see his
pictures?

Nothing at all like this.

The fact is that his masters, Twentieth
Century-Fox, have finally decided to let
Cesar Romero dance. Also that he's a bet-
ter investment playing romantic leads
where the hero owns what Latin lovers
seldom do — a nifty sense of humor.

Which accounts for the fact that in his
last picture, The Cisco Kid and the Lady,
he ceased being a well-bred Blitzkrieg
and busied himself, instead, executing
a rhumba with Virginia Field.

But which does not account for the fact
that Cesar Romero's terpsichorean talents
have been left pretty much unexploited
throughout dozens of pictures, although
he is one of Hollywood's favorite dance
partners, and was a professional dancer
of several years' good standing when Pro-
ducer Brock Pemberton discovered him
and lured him onto the stage.

"That's Hollywood for you," is how
Senor Romero has doped it out. "Eventu-
ally they rec- [Continued on page 60]

In The Cisco Kid and the Lady Cesar
Romero demonstrates his danc-
ing ability in a long rhumba
with Virginia Field

How To Be An Easter Egg

■ "Are we men or are we sheep?"
Mischa Auer roared in violent anger.
"That's what I want to know!"

"Sheep, dear," said Norma, his wife, in
the placating tone frequently heard in
our best asylums. "I thought we had
settled that."

"Da!" he spat out. Da, I gathered, is
Russian for yes, okay, or you're damned
tootin'. "Sheep! Bah!"

"Bah, bah black sheep, have you
any wool? Yessir, yessir, three bags

Women's dresses are influ-
enced by the movies. Mischa
Auer thinks it is a crime and
a shame that his clothes
c a n't be i n f 1 u e n c e d. t o o

By KAY PROCTOR

full," said Master Tony Auer, aged
five.

"Tony, dear, I think you had better
run upstairs and play with your nice new
toys," Norma interrupted the recitation.
"Your father is in no mood for poetry
today." Tony took one look at father
glaring at the brightly burning logs in the
fireplace and beat a retreat.

"Sheep!" Father hissed again after a
moody silence. "Da, sheep!"

"I wouldn't want to intrude on anything

Left, here is Auer in the costume he
advocated for lounging. Tarzan influeuro

/ iitri'i'K photos by Charles Rhodes

*%s_

Elizabeth and Essex
influence for golf

personal, of course," I said pleasantly, "but
what's this all about?"

"Men's fashions," Norma said, as if that made
everything entirely clear. "In a way, I sup-
pose, you might say the whole thing started
yesterday when I brought my new Easter outfit
home. It's a lamb of a creation in teal blue
and dusty pink with a lot of Scarlett O'Hara
touches. You know, the Gone With the Wind
influence which is so good this spring."

I know there are times when I'm slow on
the up-take but for the life of me I couldn't
see what that had to do with men's fashions
and Mischa's bitter denunciation of his fellow
men as sheep. However, I rarely hesitate to

ask about things I don't understand, so I
asked for a diagram. Norma hummed and
hawed for a few moments.

"Why beat around the bush?" Mischa
demanded. "The plain truth is, I'm
jealous! I, too, want to strut in Easter
finery. I, too, want to be influenced by
the movies! But alas, like other men, I
have sold my soul into sartorial slavery.
Bond Street speaks, and, like dogs under
a whip, we cower and submit to its
dictates. But mark you this: a revolu-
tion is coming. Some day we shall be
free!"

Perhaps, I suggested, he would be the
enlightened Moses who would lead men
to new tailored glory?

"Perhaps," he said darkly. "Who knows?
A man must do his duty as he sees it."

In case he is called to head the crusade,
Mischa has his slogan on file in the Copy-

right Bureau. Three little words, he said,
tell the whole story. Nature Knows Best!

"Modern manhood has been flying in
the face of it," he contended. "Which
birds have the more brilliant plumage?
The males. Which animals wear the
brightest coats? The males. Which fish
have the finest scales? The males. Why,
then, should the genus homo accept less?
The answer is tyranny. From the day he
is pinned into his first diaper until finally
somebody wraps him up in a shroud, man
wears exactly what somebody tells him
to wear, no more, no less. Who tells him?
First his mother, then his father, and then
his tailor. Who tells the tailor? More
tailors!"

Take the matter of color, for instance.
Day after day a man uncomplainingly
permits his very soul to be smothered in
dull browns, drab grays, dark blues and

depressing black, Mischa said, when every
instinct in him cries out for good strong
stuff like purple or red. Why? Because
he's a sheep, that's why. Because the
tailor rolls out a few bolts of brown, gray,
blue or black and says "What'll it be?"
Because he knows darned well they'd lock
him up in a booby hatch if he showed up
home in a nifty double-breasted number
in lipstick red.

"Comes the revolution and all that will
be changed," Mischa promised. "Man for
the first time will be allowed to express
the beautiful things within him. Man will
be an individual, not a carbon copy of
every other dope on the street."

He has given color considerable thought,
Mischa said, even going so far as to work
out a color chart as a guide to moods and
emotions. Mauve, for example, is an ex-
cellent stimulant [Continued on page 63]

Stagecoach and Charlie
Chan in a walking suit

No denying a turban
gives a man allure

Tower of London helmet
for a tough audience

Any man looks dashing
in a Robin Hood cap

You can lift the visor
if the audience claps

A Drums Along the
Mohawk hat has speed

For the Easter parade.
Marie Antoinette coat

No wonder Flash Gor-
don is unconquerable

Deanna's New
Spring Clothes

Left, a dashing plaid is the
best bet in a coat if yon
are sixteen and feel quite
grown-up. No collar is smart

A square neck is new
and smart when crisp
embroidered organdie
is lavishly ruffled

Deanna Diurbin shopped for new spring
clothes just as soon as she finished final
scenes for ft** a Date and here they are

Slacks made of grey-
blue wool, worn with
red and white blonse

A reefer coat of soft beige wool
will go all the way through
spring and into fall with a
variety of

new accessories

I'laid again, and long
sleeves again, too ... a
definite hint on the
newest spring clothes

Black silk taffeta is
a charming background
for a wandering spray
of glittering flowers

Back Into Time —
1,000,000 Years

Tarn back the clock and let
the centuries whiz hy . * back,
back to the stone age where
true love even then won out

By
JESSIE HENDERSON

£ Three Nevada schoolboys out on a
hike scrambled round a buttress of
red cliff and peered into a narrow canyon.
To their blank astonishment they saw a
lizard, bigger than a horse, with scales and
horns and a face like a rhinoceros. Slowly
but steadily the monster was crawling
along the canyon floor in their direction.

The boys didn't wait. They broke hiker
speed records back to Logandale and in-
formed the home folks that some kind of
unknown varmint was on the loose up in
Fire Valley.

Their hysterical narrative started the

local counterpart of a "Loch Ness sea
serpent" flurry such as gave Scotland the
shivers a couple of years ago. The tale
gained credence the more readily because
in that section of Nevada the giant bones
of prehistoric thingummies have often
been unearthed. The home folks, grab-
bing rifles, followed the 14 -year -old
Windsor twins (Leon and Kleon) and their
pal Eddie Frahner to the Valley rim, pre-
pared for anything but what they found . . .

That's how real the antediluvian critters
are in 1,000,000 B.C. Because what the
embattled Logandalers found was a com-
pany from the Hal Roach Studios filming
the picture based upon the dawn days of
the human era.

Sheepishly the Logandale folks admitted
they knew a Hollywood company was on
location thereabout, but the boys had been
so scared . . . Even more sheepishly the
boys admitted they'd hiked over pur-

HOLLYWOOD

Victor Mature sprained his
ankle while vigorously "killing"
one of the make-believe monsters

posely to see how movies were made, but,
doggone! they didn't notice any cameras
in the canyon, and the great lizard wag-
gled its head so fierce and — and it crawled
'n' everything . . .

What the youngsters had dropped in on
turned out to be a scene with a prehistoric
Triceratops. One of the bygone dinosaurs,
Triceratops was on the prowl by himself
just prior to meeting Tumak (Victor
Mature) , a doughty young warrior of the
Rock Tribe. There's a battle for you!
Face a locomotive coming at full speed,
give it three horns and an armored tail
that could topple the Statue of Liberty
at one swipe, try to halt this antagonist by
shying rocks at it — and you'll see what
Victor Mature was up against.

Oh, no, of course it wasn't an authentic
Triceratops. The last one died hundreds
of thousands of years ago. But it looks
like a real one, all right. The studio people,

APRIL, 1940

careful of their secrets, guard all details
as to how they managed it, but, besides
fooling the schoolboys the critter, so
Victor says, darn near fooled him, too.
He had read the script, but still he
wondered for a while how the fight would
turn out.

Never has there existed a finer locale for
a prehistoric scrap. Few people know
about Fire Valley, though to zoologists it
is a treasure house of extinct-animal
skeletons millions of years old, and con-
tains also the village site of a people hardly
less ancient.

For twenty-two miles the Valley is
walled by lofty sandstone cliffs of an un-
believable, unbroken red. The winds and
storms of thousands of centuries have
whittled fantastic knobs and pinnacles,
some the height of a ten-story building,
which stand out with bizarre effect above
gullies and caves. At one point a petrified
forest is embedded horizontally in the
cliff face; trunks, branches, upflung roots.
By day, the tumbled desolation of the
Valley rises hot-red against a turquoise

sky. At sunset, the whole mass of rocks
glows as if with flame.

Around such a spot has been built a
picture in harmony with that wild and
terrifying beauty. It is a picture so dif-
ferent from the usual movie that D. W.
Griffith himself emerged from his several
years' retirement to become its producer.

The principals are Victor Mature, Lon
Chaney, Jr., Carole Landis, and John Hub-
bard. Mature, a six-foot, powerful lad,
has the romantic role of Tumak, member
of the Rock Tribe of which Chaney is
leader. Hubbard plays a hunter of the
Shell Tribe, of which Carole Landis is the
yellow-haired "Golden One."

■ In the initial scene of the screenplay,
a party of modern vacationists dis-
cover a vast cave, rosy-red fretted with
silver stalactites. Their footfalls echo
through it with an eerie sound, as if
awaking whispers of a mysterious past.
In an archway among pillars twisted and
hewn by the elements, they find a rock
carving, hewn [Continued on page 46]

'«»*•.,

rTvJ

*vi

*»-■

^^_i»v

- .-',£

' ^i

r*»

iw- ..

Hctol Malure •• !>»■ '"-»«•'
Rock Tribe leader In '■»••"■
.ill. a prehistoric monster

Carol Landls, a. ministering
aniel of the stone age, aids
the handsome wounded .(ranger

Inl.

Grateful, he leads he
in battle with a terrifii.
monster that threaten* th.,"' I

Vlonderful and awesome are the
fearful monsters featured all
,!,(. way through this picture

Peter, 23-fool Malayan python,
was a friendly soul when not
Playing a villain in the film

Lon Chanrr, Jr., as head of the
Shell Tribe, warns his follower,
of dangers that lurk In hhlli.a

The leader, plan a campaign.
I.efi, John Norlbpolo, Invonlor,

-IronK-tniin and famous extra

An elephant, dressed In u fur
overcoat, doubles as a woolly
mnmrnolh. Who wouldn't run?

Norman Budd, John Norlhpole,
Victor Mature an. I John Hub-
bard see a shocking battle

ol l.andis on location gelling

e final and expert lOUcllM on

lovely .lone age hair-do

Back Into Time —
1,000,000 Years

Turn lim-lt (In- t-loi-k mid !<•<
I Ik- . .iiIiii i.- whiz liv.. biiok.

luii-k ■ «> ili>- si ntfi> » lure

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JESSIE HENDEItSON

■ Three Nevada schoolboys out on a
hike scrambled round a buttress of
red cliff and peered into a narrow canyon.
To their blank astonishment they saw a
lizard, bigger than a horse, with scales and
horns and a face like a rhinoceros. Slowly
but steadily the monster was crawling
along the canyon floor in their direction.

The boys didn't wait. They broke hiker
speed records back to Logandale and In-
formed the home folks that some kind of
unknown varmint was on the loose up in
Fire Valley.

Their hysterical narrative started the

Lon Chaney, Jr., with the Irish
wolf-hounds that play roles
of savage prehistoric does

local counterpart of a "Loch Ness sea
serpent" flurry such as gave Scotland the
shivers a couple of years ago. The tale
gained credence the more readily because
in that section of Nevada the giant bones
of prehistoric thingummies have often
been unearthed. The home folks, grab-
bing rifles, followed the 14- year -ok)
Windsor twins (Leon and Kleon) and their
pal Eddie Frahner to the Valley rim. pre-
pared for anything but what they found . . ,

Sheepishly the Logandale folks admittw
they knew a Hollywood company was on
location thereabout, but the boys had been
so scared . . . Even more sheepishly ""
boys admitted they'd hiked over P""

HOLLYWOOD

Victor Mature sprained his
ankle while vigorously "killing"
one of the make-believe monster*

posely to see how movies were made, but,
doggone! they didn't notice any cameras
in the canyon, and the great lizard wag-
gled its head so fierce and — and it crawled
'n' everything . . .

What the youngsters had dropped in on
turned out to be a scene with a prehistoric
Triceratops. One of the bygone dinosaurs,
Triceratops was on the prowl by himself
just prior to meeting Tumak (Victor
Mature), a doughty young warrior of the
Rock Tribe. There's a battle for you!
Face a locomotive coming at full speed,
give it three horns and an armored tail
that could topple the Statue of Liberty
at one swipe, try to halt this antagonist by
snying rocks at it— and you'll see what
Victor Mature was up against.

Oh, no, of course it wasn't an authentic
Triceratops. The last one died hundreds
w thousands of years ago. But it looks
luce a real one, all right. The studio people,
APRIL, 1940

Never has there existed a finer locale for
a prehistoric scrap. Few people know
about Fire Valley, though to zoologists It
is a treasure house of extinct-animal
skeletons millions of years old, and con-
tains also the village site of a people hardly
less ancient.

For twenty-two miles the Valley Is
walled by lofty sandstone cliffs of an un-
believable, unbroken red. The winds and
storms of thousands of centuries have
whittled fantastic knobs and pinnacles,
some the height of a ten-story building,
which stand out with bizarre effect above
gullies and caves. At one point a petrified
forest is embedded horizontally in the
cliff face; trunks, branches, upflung roots.
By day, the tumbled desolation of the
Valley rises hot-red against a turquoise

sky. At sunset, the whole musa of roekl
glows as If with flame,

Around such a spot has been built a
picture in hurmony with that wild ud
terrifying beauty. It is n plctuiv |Q <lil
ferent from the usual movie that IV W
Griffith himself emerged from his several
years' retirement to become Its producer.

The principals ua Victor Mature, Lon
Chaney, Jr., Carole Landls, and John Hub-
bard, Mature, a six-foot, powerful hid,
has the romantic role of Tumak, member
of the Rock Tribe of which Chtni
leader. Hubbard plays n hunter of the
Shell Tribe, of which Corolc Landls Is the
yellow-haired "Golden One."

■ In the Initial scene of the icrMnpIay,
a party of modern vacationists dis-
cover a vast cave, rosy-red fretted with
silver stalactites. Their footfnlls echo
through it with an eerie sound, om If
awaking whispers of a mysterious past.
In on archwuy among pillurs twisted and
hewn by the elements, they find a rock
carving, hewn [Continued on page 46J

1 ft WWW J9LEDN

Joan Crawford's "Houseguest

| Joan Crawford never has had a world
of her own, and to a sensitive, electric
personality, the inner sanctuary created
by great love, by dependence, by warmth
and security, is an imperative need.

For many years Joan Crawford has
lacked this special, this essential king-
dom. Today, she is well on the way to
attaining it, and with it the happiness she
has been seeking, and the serenity she
has never had.

Today, a platinum -haired, six-year-old
is so influencing the character, the emotions,
even the attitudes of Joan Crawford that
she is substantially remaking Joan's life.

The child is her niece and namesake, Joan Crawford LeSueur.

From the moment of birth the child has brought peculiar
treasures within Joan Crawford's horizons. Joan — the glam-
orous, the beautiful — has had Fame. But Fame is a cold fire
at which to warm your heart.

She has had many friendships — but even friendships are of
fragile quality in Hollywood. She has been married — but disen-
chantment, and heartache and divorce followed. Now, at
last, she has a human relationship, which is sound and secure
and vital. Let me tell you the story:

The announcement that Joan was to play the title role in
Susan and God had been made several days
before we talked about Joan, Jr.

We had planned a quiet, undisturbed interview,
but the New York Grand Central station would
have seemed a peaceful retreat in comparison to

The little girl who is known,
formally, as Miss Craw-
ford's houseguest is an im-
portant influence in the life
of this glamorous slar

By SOMA LEK

her dressing room on this rain-drenched
afternoon.

"Would Miss Crawford look at costume
sketches? Was she ready for her hat
tests? Hair tests? Make-up tests? The
crew was waiting . . . Now, don't hurry
Miss Crawford — but will you make it as
fast as you can? Just a minute — we must
have a fitting on this dress before you go
on the set? And what color would you
like your dressing room painted? Will
mauve be O. K.? And how about purple
for the draperies . . ."

There were hairdressers, and make-up

men and wardrobe girls, and decorators

and painters and a famous

hat- designer and the even

more [Continued on page 52]

Little Joan insists upon
clothes cut just exactly
like those of her aunt

"Have you ever wished for a

BRAND NEW SKIN?

Welly you're going to get one!" s^f-<s^C^C^^

Just beneath your present skin lies a Lovelier

You! Help reveal your new beauty to the world

with my 4-Purpose Face Cream!

EVERY SECOND that you live and breathe, a new skin— a
new-born skin — is coming to life upon your face, your
arms, your whole body !

Will it be more glamorous, asks Lady Esther? Will it flat-
ter you— be soft and lovely— make you look more youthful?
Yes, says Lady Esther, that new-born skin can bring you a
new-born beauty— if—

If only you will let my 4-Purpose Face Cream help you to
free your skin from those tiny, invisible flakes of worn-out
skin that must be removed gently before your new-born skin
will be revealed in all its glory I

For these almost invisible flakes of old, worn-out skin can
be the thieves that steal your beauty. They leave little bumps
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Let my 4-Purpose Cream lift that veil! Gently and sooth-
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Ask Your Doctor About Your Face Cream

All the better if he's a specialist on the skin. If you have a
vitamin deficiency— follow his advice. He will be a strange
physician indeed if he tells you to try and push anything Like
vitamins or hormones into your skin with your face cream!

Ask him if every word Lady Esther says isn't absolutely
true— that her cream clears away the dirt, impurities, worn-
out skin, and accumulated grime concealing your new, young
skin about to be born!

Then, try my face cream at my expense. Use it three times
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powder. See how it does help reveal your glamorous new skin
—how it does help keep your Accent on Youth!

Please Accept Lady Esther's 10-Day Sample FREE!

. WVWWWWVWWVWW v \ \ \v

The Miracle
of Reborn Skin

Your skin is constantly
wearing out — drying up —
flaking off almost invisi-
bly. But it is immediately
replaced by new-born skin
—always crowd! ng upward
and outward. Lady Esther
says you can help make
each rebirth of your skin
a true Rebirth of Beauty I

><«wvmMu«ugvmvHUuuwtwn

•.\*\Y-*\\X\VlW\aY\YV\\VV\'V\\V\\VlVV\11\VU\\tYVlV\\VVVVV'V\VV-l1

(You can paste this on a penny postcard) (54)

Lady Esther, 7130 West 65th St., Chicago, 111.

CDCC Please send me your generous
* JCV. JJi MJt supply of Lady Esther Face
Cream; also ten shades of Face Powder, free
and postpaid.

Name-

Add ress_

City_

-State

(If you live in Canada, write Lady Esther. Toronto, Ont.)

lttU»«MA(«UWVWtt>Um>«in««W«HA«>UY»«V««n

The Art of
Mr. Donlevy

Brian Donlevy scowls, leers, sneers,
grimaces and so winds himself around
the hearts of film goers who consider
him king of all of the screen villains

By THOMAS NORD RILEY

■ This Mr. Donlevy is the biggest heel that Hollywood has
uncovered in all the long lean years since the Beery

brothers gave up curdling blood. The scarcity in villains had
been pretty acute for sometime and nothing suitably putrid
had turned up to help it. Basil Rathbone was promisingly
loathsome to start out with, but Mr. Rathbone moulted and
now is a gaunt lovable snoop named Sherlock Holmes. Mr.
Humphrey Bogart, off and on, has been tolerably offensive as
a gangster, but off and on is no way to get ahead being hated.
Mr. Eduardo Cianelli has been consistently revolting and owns
a face that makes insomniacs of strong men and will sour milk
at thirty paces, but his performances have been too short and
infrequent for him to be popularly despised. But Mr. Don-
levy — now there is a screen cur for you! Who but Mr. Don-
levy would chuck a bomb at Jesse James' dilapidated old
mother? Remember in In Old Chicago how we cheered when
Mr. Donlevy fell off a building and the cows trampled him to
a pulp? And when in Union Pacific Mr. Donlevy, meaner than
anything this side of the place where defective Christians go,
was horsewhipped and finally plugged? You have to be some-
thing of a national phobia to get responses like that from audi-
ences, but now it seems that Mr. Donlevy was just catching
his wind, for Mr. Donlevy has established himself as a big-
league terror alongside Rasputin, Hitler and Satan as Sergeant
Markoff in Beau Geste. For that epic dastardliness, Mr. Don-
levy gets in line for an Academy award and a neat vice-
presidency in hell.

He is plenty repulsive, and no doubt could haunt a booby-
hatch without working up a sweat, but the morbid curiosity
that gets us staring at snakes in a zoo is aroused by Mr. Don-
levy, too. How does he get so mean? Does he drink tiger
blood? Does he wallop his wife? Does he slip crumbs in his
mother-in-law's bed to bruise her? Does he jerk the entrails
from little girls' dolls?

■ It is my sorrow to report that Mr. Donlevy writes poetry
and that his second name is Waldo. It is enough to kill one's

belief in human nature. Furthermore he is bashful, hand-
some, brave and it is only with remorse that he will swing on a
mosquito. What kind of a villain do you call that?

There is only one explanation (your correspondent's) of
Mr. Donlevy's villainy and that, says Mr. Donlevy, is a frus-
trated urge to comedy. Frustrate any comedian and you'll
likely end up with a villain or the body from a suicide. For
twelve years Mr. Donlevy played light wholesome roles on
the New York stage. Then he was shanghaied to Hollywood
and cast as a scoundrelly saloon-keeper in Barbary Coast. Such
doings will make anybody pretty cussed. If that isn't the
reason then the only other one is that Mr. Donlevy is an un-
commonly expert actor.

Mr. Donlevy is an Irishman, born on the sod of Northern Ire-
land at Portadown in County Armagh. His father made Irish
whisky for the arid gullets of Ireland [Continued on page 54]

I VOWED I WOULDN'T

DANCE AT HER WEDDING

Audrey Is my very best friend. So when she asked
me to be a bridesmaid, I fished out my savings
and sank them gladly into a lovely pink frock
and hat and slippers. I was as excited as she
was. And then came the day. Bright— but not
bright for me . . .

For It turned OUt to be one of my "difficult
days" and long before the reception was over,
I was terribly uncomfortable — you know how
chafing is ! The minute I could, I flew upstairs
to dodge the dancing. And there Audrey's
sister found me. "Why, darling!" she ex-
claimed, "whatever on earth?" And soon I
was telling her my troubles.

"Just you Walt!" she ordered, "till I get
some Miracle Modess. It has a won-
derful new feature — 'Moisture Zon-
ing'." And back she came in a minute
to show me how "Moisture Zoning"
acts to direct moisture inside the pad,
leaving edges dry and soft and com-
fortable longer than ever before.

"NOW, see this." She opened a pad-
pointed to Modess' fluff-type filler— as
downy-soft as a powder puff. Then
she took out Modess' moisture-resist-
ant backing, and, sprinkling water on
it, she proved that it didn't strike
through. "So go ahead and dance —
with a light heart," she counseled.

Well, I did. And soon I was not only having a
grand time, but I caught the bride's bouquet.
As I wrote later, to Audrey's sister, "Thanks
to you, I danced every dance as carefree and
comfortable as you please! And was I sur-
prised to learn that your wonderful Modess
with 'Moisture Zoning' costs not a penny

NOW-NEW MIRACLE MODESS BRINGS YOU "MOISTURE ZONING"

Madeleine Carroll plays the
challenging part of the girl
loved by both father and son

DEAR EDITOR, EDITOR,

If you have been fortunate
enough to read Howard Spring's
best-selling novel, My Son, My
Son, you'll understand what I
mean when I say that Hollywood's
lifted eyebrows lifted an inch
higher when Edward Small an-
nounced that he was going to make
a film of it.

No film version, however well
written, could prevent it from be-
ing too tragic, too sombre, they said.
Movie audiences would never accept it
as screen fare. I was of the same opin-
ion after, reading the book. It just
wouldn't take on celluloid.

But I've changed my mind now that
I've worked in the picture, seen all the
rushes, read the script and watched
the highly capable cast headed by
Brian Aherne, Henry Hull, Madeleine
Carroll, Louis Hayward, Laraine Day,

My Son, My Son

Oar favorite extra lays down a smoke screen
and learns the painful lesson that, if yon
give an actor enough rope, he will hang you

By E. .1. SMITIISO\. SMITHSON

comes

Brian Aherne with little Scolty
Beckett in one of the earlier
scenes from My Son, My Son

Bruce Lester, Josephine Hutchinson, and
Schuyler Standish at work under the ex-
pert guidance of Director Charles Vidor.
My Son, My Son possesses all the qualities
that go to make splendid movie enter-
tainment, and I like it so well that I'm
willing to climb out on a limb and say that
it's going to be tabbed by the critics as one
of the outstanding films of 1940!

The Duke oj West Point and The Man in
the Iron Mask were a couple of Edward
Small's big moneymakers last year. He's a
little man, matching his name, but he has
a head full of big ideas that invariably
seem to click when applied to the making
of motion pictures. A lot of people be-
lieve in him. Bankers,, especially. Need-
ing a bankroll to supplement his own
(which, by the way, is plenty big), he went
to New York, spent a couple of days with
the money-changers, and returned with
more than $7,000,000 to spend in making
his quota of 1940 films. Ever try to borrow
a buck from a hard-hearted banker? We
have on several sad occasions, and that's
why we have a profound respect for the
Small man who certainly IS there when it
to wheedling folding money from those

guarded New York vaults.

The first man we saw when we went to work was
Casting Director Victor Sutker. Victor was busy
with a youngster by the name of Schuyler Standish,
a smart, quiet-looking lad who had come in to be
tested for the part. As near as I can recall, the in-
terview between the two went something like
this:
Victor: "How old are you?"
Schuyler: "Twelve."

Victor: "And in what grade are you at school?"
Schuyler: "The senior year at high school."
The casting director looked over at me some-
what taken aback at the idea of being made the
victim of what he thought [Continued on page 37]

THE MAIN STREET FORUM AGREES-

Babies take to Clapp's!

1 . The Young Thing with her first baby starts
it off by remarking, "I'm starting Barbara on
strained foods next week. I suppose it won't
matter to her which brand I buy, will it?"

The chorus of protest rises loud and em-
phatic. "Oh, doesn't it?". . .". . . why, there's
all the difference—" "... if my baby could
talk, he'd tell you—" "My Wallie can talk
—he's on Chopped Foods now— and he—"

One speaker finally gets the floor . . .

2. The energetic ex-business girl says, as
she tucks a week's groceries away at the feet
of her offspring, "Babies are very choosy
about flavor. And Clapp's are so fresh-
tasting. They seem like vegetables right
fresh out of a garden. You just ought to
open up all the brands of strained or
chopped spinach some time and taste them
yourself. Clapp's would win in a walk!"

3. The former schoolteacher who has read
up on infant diet gets in a word: "Clapp's
vegetables are specially raised for baby
foods. Clapp's aren't ordinary canners, you
know. They made baby foods long before
the others, and they don't make anything
else. They've spent years working with
plant-breeders to develop vegetables full of
vitamins and minerals and flavor."

4. The comfortable mother of four says,
"Listen! It's texture, too. Some foods are too
thick for a baby's tongue, and some are so
thin he doesn't learn to eat. Clapp's are
exactly right. And you'll be glad you started
with Clapp's when your baby's older!
Clapp's Chopped Foods have the same good
flavors, and she'll go on to them so easily—
and thrive on 'em for years!"

17 Strained Foods for Babies

Soups — Vegetable Soup • Beef Broth • Liver Soup • Un-
strained Baby Soup • Vegetables with Beef • Vegetables
— Asparagus • Spinach • Peas • Beets • Carrots • Green
Beans • Mixed Creens • Fruits- — Apricots • Prunes • Apple-
sauce • Pears-and-Peaches • Cereal — Baby Cereal.

12 Chopped Foods for Toddlers

Soup — Vegetable Soup • Junior Dinners- — Vegetables
with Beef • Vegetables with Lamb • Vegetables with
Liver • Vegetables — Carrots • Spinach • Beets • Green
Beans • Mixed Greens • Fruits -Applesauce • Prunes
Dessert -Pineapple Kice Dessert with Raisins.

Clapp's Baby Foods

OKAYED BY DOCTORS AND BABIES

rit Location at

Virginia City

Out into the desert they
went to film the rousing
tale of the Civil War as
it was fought in Nevada

■ Virginia City, suh, is true to 01' Vir-
ginny. And the gold in them Nevada
hills will never buy bullets, suh, to wound
and slay the Boys in Gray.

That's the thesis of Virginia City, which
is undergoing immortalization at the hands
of the Warner Brothers historians. Cunnel
Michael Curtiz, although strictly from
Hungary, vibrates in sympathy with the
lost cause of the South.

Miss Miriam Hopkins, a veritable
daughter of the Stars and Bars, appears in
this gaudy playback of the Civil War as a
composite figger made up of the best
features of Rothschild, The Little Colonel,
Mata Hari and Gypsy Rose Lee. As a

member of the Dixie Gestapo she

makes out like she is a frivolous,

low-cut dance hall dame in order to

bootleg $5,000,000 in gold bullion to

President Jeff Davis and preserve

the Confederacy before it goes

with the wind.

The locale of these picaresque
transactions is the Bonanza Belt of
Nevada Territory in 1864. Virginia
City was christened by a drunken
prospector named Jimmy Fenni-
more. On the afternoon of 1859
as he emerged from the Sazerac
Saloon he was seized with a fit of
vapors and fell to the duckboard
sidewalk, breaking a bottle of Old Mus-
ket whiskey which he was toting in
his pistol pocket. As the last drop drained
into the red ooze of the town's principal
thoroughfare, Jimmy said, with the cere-
monial gravity of the Bourbon-soaked, "I
name thee Virginia City." The name stuck
and so did the odor of Bourbon.

The tempo of the town was captured
by a hack journalist of the period who
wrote:

"Virginia City is the livest town of its
age and population in America. Its side-
walks swarm with people. The streets
are crowded with quartz wagons and
freight teams. It takes an hour to cross
the principal street.

"It has military companies and fire com-
panies, brass bands, banks, hotels,

theatres, hurdy-gurdy houses, wide-open
gambling palaces, street fights, murders,
inquests, a gin-mill every fifteen steps, a
board of aldermen, a mayor, a city sur-
veyor, a city engineer, a fire chief, a chief
of police, a city marshal and a large police
force, a dozen breweries, half a dozen
jails and station houses in full operation,
and some talk of building a church."

The tramp-printer-editor who thus de-
scribed the temporary scene of his en-
deavors was Mark Twain of The Terri-
torial Enterprise.

Pardner, I pledge you that the Warner
Brothers have done nothing to dull the
garishness of Virginia City's color. The
Civil War, like every other issue in
American history worth fighting about,
was decided in the saloons. Remember
how the Union Pacific was built in Brian
Donlevy's dump? Remember how the
Santa Fe got to Dodge City? Right through
those swinging doors. Remember where
the Twenties roared? Through Jimmy
Cagney's cafe. It's that simple.

The Sazerac Saloon in Virginia City was
a battleground no less important than
Gettysburg, Manassas or Bull Run.
Miriam Hopkins, a true-blue daughter of
the Confederacy and a chum of Jefferson
Davis, is discovered working in the
Sazerac as a "B" girl. This is no index of
the quality of the picture. A "B" girl is a
lady barfly who gets a percentage of the
gold her gentlemen friends lay out for

drinks. Discovering by clever under- cover
methods that the town is so filthy with
gold that the urchins play duck-on-a-rock
with 24-karat ingots, Julie does a
fast flashback to Richmond, Virginia,
where her old gavotte-mate, Vance (Ran-
dolph Scott) is the head screw of Libby
Prison. Leave it to the Warners to get
a prison sequence into a Wild West
romance about the Civil War.

Mildewing in this same Confederate can
are three Federal dicks^-Union soldiers
who have been caught with their ears to
Jefferson Davis' keyhole. They are Errol
Flynn, Alan Hale and Guinn Williams.

Still eavesdropping like the damyankees
they portray, the trio of stirbugs overhear
Miriam broach to Randolph her proposal
that a few wagonloads of gold be trans-
ported over the hills from Virginia City
to Virginia to bolster up the flagging
morale of the Dixie legions. So, Flynn
and his double-headed comedy relief
tunnel out of the Libby dormitory with an
old soup-spoon and report the plot to
General Hooker, who details them to in-
tercept the ingots.

In Virginia City, Vance sets about
corralling all the nuggets hidden in the
socks of all the Southern sympathizers
while Miriam returns to her job at the
Sazerac Saloon.

H The studio set which serves as the
Sazerac is one of the flossiest in the
endless cycle of Hollywood bars and grills.
In addition to Miss Hopkins, the chief
decoration of the joint, as the Warners re-
constructed it, was a lush and opulent
painting behind the bar showing a lush
and opulent nude maiden reclining on a
bower of clouds and daffodils.

In the original Sazerac in Virginia City
there was such a painting and legend in-
sists that the reclining figure was so life-
like that after sixteen or twenty drinks the
customers could see her breathe.

The Warners hired a celebrated painter
to reproduce the original reclining Psyche.
The painter must have been celebrated
because the price he asked and got was
$2,000. When the job was done, the tech-
nical crew went to work on the painting
to get the lifelike effect detailed in the old
prospectors' yarns. This they achieved
by substituting a rubber bladder for the
lady's diaphragm, inflating it, and valving
compressed air in and out at the normal
frequency of human breathing. The net
effect was, in a word, Zowie!

The Hays Office, so sensitive that it can
register a tremor of horror as far away
as the balcony of the second-run theatre
in Slippery Rock, Pa., immediately indi-
cated that a disturbance of earthquake
proportions was brewing in the Burbank
studio. The trouble-shooters of Joe
Breen's censorship corps went streaking
over Cahuenga Pass like shock troops in
a blitzkrieg.

The Hays Office censorship is strictly
"voluntary" on the part of the producers —
an attempt to stop trouble before it starts.
In the case of the breathing Venus, the
studio was told it had jolly well better
volunteer to throw out the picture of the
lady with the rubber stomach or accept
the consequences. Result: the portrait

"It used to make me hopping mad — the way my husband was always kicking about
his shirts. I know they were a mess — everything in my wash was full of tattle-tale
gray. But I worked like a beaver. I didn't know my lazy soap left dirt behind. I had
no idea what ailed my clothes until . . .

"The lady next door got me to wash the Fels-Naptha way — and glory, what a sur-
prise! I've tried the bar as well as the new Fels-Naptha Soap Chips. Both of them
combine grand golden soap and gentle nap t ha so effectively that even the grimiest
dirt hustles out! You bet my husband's showering me with compliments these days —
I've got the whitest, most fragrant washes that ever danced on a line!"

Now— Fels-Naptha brings you 2 grand ways
to banish "Tattle -Tale Gray"

WHEREVER YOU USE BAR
SOAP - USE FELS-NAPTHA
SOAP. SEE HOW IT HUSTLES
OUT DIRT- HOW BEAUTIFULLY
WHITE AND SWEET IT CETS
YOUR CLOTHES! SEE WHY MIL-
LIONS SAY IT'S THE GRANDEST
BAR'SOAP THEY'VE EVER USED.'

WHEREVER YOU USE BOX'SOAP-
USE FELS-NAPTHA SOAP CHIPS.

THEY SPEED WASHING MACHINES
LIKE MAGIC BECAUSE THEY'RE
HUSKIER —NOT PUFFED UP
WITH AIR LIKE FLIMSY, SNEEZY
POWDERS. THEY GIVE BUSIER,
LIVELIER SUDS BECAUSE THEY
NOW HOLD A NEW SUDS-BUILDER

Remember — Golden Bar or Golden Chips —

FELS-NAPTHA

BANISHES "TATTLE-TALE GRAY"

COPR. 1>40, FELS ft CO.

EX-LAX MOVIES

T*Ai

a~~

BOB: Say, fellow . . . are you taking
Ex-Lax? Thought that was for
women and kids.

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is now on exhibition in the Warner
Brothers Chamber of Horrors along with
the shroud Jim Cagney wore in Public
Enemy and a plaster cast of Maxie Rosen-
bloom's cauliflower ear.

Even without the atmospheric stimulus
provided by the nude with the educated
abdomen, Flynn and Hopkins work up a
pretty idyll of love-in-bloom-among-the-
barflies. But Randolph Scott throws a
Confederate gray shadow over the
romance by reminding Miriam that her
mission in life is to get the bullion through
the blockade and over the hills to Vir-
ginny. To make the trip doubly safe,
Randolph offers Bandit Humphrey Bogart
ten grand in gold to sidetrack the Union
Army patrols while the nuggets, loaded on
a wagon-train, ease over the horizon.

■ Along here is where the script got
hard to handle, calling for scenes in

Nevada, Arizona, Kansas and way stations.
The only feasible territory that contained
all this diversified terrain within a com-
pact radius was the Painted Desert of
Arizona, 500 miles from Hollywood and
within a stone's throw of oblivion.

To re-create the trek of the gold train,
Director Curtiz had to man and equip an
expedition ten times as big and several
hundred times as costly as the historical
cavalcade. Mere physical costs of the loca-
tion party, without salaries, were $15,000
a day. Two hundred players, riders and
workers were in the grim band of pilgrims
that set out to rediscover the Wild West.

At full strength, the convoy contained
six huge transcontinental buses, twenty-
two trucks, ten limousines, two station
wagons, a generator truck and two camera
cars.

Fifty- one horses with movie experience
were transported from Hollywood and
seventy-two amateur horses rented from
the Navajos.

The Hollywood invasion put an almost
unbearable strain on the town of Flag-
staff, the center of the location zone. The
actors used up all the available quarters
at the three hotels and overflowed into
auto camps and private homes. Miriam
Hopkins, always the individualist, moved
into a Navajo trading post. Humphrey
Bogart and his wife, Mayo Methot, took
lodgings at an Indian reservation 90 miles
away from the shooting site. This en-
tailed four or five hours of top-speed
motoring daily.

■ Messrs. Flynn and Scott stepped into
the local social whirl by showing up

unexpectedly at a carnival and dance of
the Arizona State Teachers' College and
took their lives in their hands by offering

to act as judges of a beauty contest. Un-
daunted by this test of fortitude, they
showed up the next week as guests of
honor at a high school play. By actual
count Flynn took more bows than the
leading lady.

The ngors of back-country life were
offset somewhat by the friendliness of the
Navajos, who were fascinated by Mike
Curtiz's quaint dialect and mystified and
amused by his primitive sign language, as,
for that matter, were his own players.

For instance, Bogart's guerrillas be-
came, in the fragmented English of
Director Curtiz, "bums."

One of the guerrillas, a new player
named William Reeves, was making his
debut in pictures after a career with the
Pasadena Community Players. Reeves
was singled out of Bogart's mob to do
a pivotal scene with Errol Flynn and
Douglas Dumbrille.

When the moment came for him to
emote, he was standing on the sidelines
talking with a group of extras.

"Mr. Bum!" Curtiz called to him. "Be
so kind as to act in our picture, please."

Reeves, who had just arrived, and had
not been told that to Curtiz he was a
"Bum," paid no attention to the request
or to its repetition.

So Curtiz specialized the invitation so
that it was unmistakable whom he meant:

"Hey, you, Mr. Pasadena Playhouse
gentleman bum."

The second day of shooting the tribes-
men ventured forth from their mud hogans
and formed a silent semi-circle behind the
camera. At lunch time Flynn passed
sandwiches and cherry pie among them,
with unexpected results. The pie, a bright
finger-nail red, they smeared on their
faces, preferring its cosmetic properties to
the gastronomic. They ate the sand-
wiches without bothering to remove the
waxed-paper wrappings.

Aside from the normal hazards of the
Painted Desert — rattlesnakes and tarantu-
las— there were other complications.
Tempers frayed and feuds raged. For
one eventful week-end it appeared that
the cast was about to choose sides — the
Blues and the Grays — and re-fight the
Civil War with bare hands, rocks or
practical bullets.

The only actor whose disposition was
uniformly sunny throughout was Hair-
Trigger Humphrey Bogart, who is no
Pollyanna even under ideal conditions.
But Humphrey was as happy as a
butcher's dog from the first scene to the
final fade.

Reason: he didn't get shot in the last
reel. In Virginia City, which must be
called unique for this if for no other rea-
son, Bogart gets knifed to death.

If the war still continues during 1940, John Payne will be unable to fulfill the terms of
a clause in his father's will. Payne's dad believed that travel was the most important edu-
cation that his son could have, and he left a trust fund to finance a round-the-world trip
once every ten years for his son. John made the first trip on his 17th birthday, May 28th,
1930, and now, according to his father's will, he is to leave on the second trip this coming
May 28th. Of course, if war continues it will be impossible for John to go, and so now the
problem arises as to what will happen to the $5,000 which will be released from the trust
fund at that time. Although Payne will receive it, he won't know what to do with it. The
will states that it may be used only for that specific purpose.

My Son. My Son

[Continued from page 32]

was a joke. But he was soon convinced
that this twelve-year-old lad was quite
serious.

"I'll be graduated from high school this
June," the youngster went on, "and at the
beginning of the fall semester I will en-
roll at the University of California at Los
Angeles."

Lady, you could have knocked me over
with that five-foot shelf of books! A fresh-
man at twelve!

Well, it turned out that this Standish
boy is more than a prodigy. He is a tal-
ented youngster in many fields of en-
deavor. He is successful as an actor, both
on the screen and radio, he has won a
scholarship as a violinist, writes plays
and stages them for inmates of the Vet-
erans' Hospital at Sawtelle, California, and
draws and paints and builds models of all
sorts.

I might as well finish this matter of
juveniles while I'm at it, and write a few
words about eight-year-old Brenda Hen-
derson, who became Hollywood's latest
Cinderella girl as a result of her big chance
to play an important role in My Son, My
Son.

The little Brenda has been living in Cal-
ifornia for only a few months, having come
to Hollywood with her parents from New
York. At the suggestion of the dramatic
teacher at Carthay Center School, where
she is enrolled in the second grade, Brenda
was given a chance in pictures and was
tested for roles in The Women and Gone
With the Wind.

But she never had appeared in a picture
when she was summoned to the Edward
Small Studios, along with 70 other little
girls to be tested for the role of Maeve as
a child. Brenda showed such surprising
acting ability in her initial test that she
was given others just to see if she really
had the stuff, and the tougher the tests
became the better Brenda delivered. Di-
rector Vidor claims that she'll rate as one
of the finds of the year.

■ Now, after paying my respects to the
juveniles let's get down to cigars.

You may wonder as to the why and
wherefore of my wanting to get down to
this cigar business, but you won't after I
relate what happened.

My first acting chore that morning was
a simple one that demanded no more of me
than to perform as a waiter during a
banquet scene, and I must admit that I
did a nifty bit of acting. Good enough,
anyway, so that all Director Vidor needed
was two rehearsals and two "takes" before
he okayed it.

It was what occurred afterward that
raised the you-know-what, and I'm not
exaggerating a bit when I say that my
"career" as a Thespian danged near went
up in smoke fifteen minutes later because
of it.

It was this way.

After the banquet was shot and in the
can, the actors were supposed to sit around
the festive board and engage in light and
airy persiflage. During that time, I was

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to enter and pass around the cigars pro-
vided, by the property department. Well,
I came in, passed around the box, and in
no time the air was blue with smoke.
Pretty soon I noticed that Henry Hull and
Brian Aherne were taking on a blue tinge,
too — so blue that it began to show through
their make-up. Well, well, well, I said to
myself, something's off-color here sure
'nuf. About then Louis Hayward stag-
gered to his feet and asked to be excused.
Director Vidor gave me a dirty look and
yelled "Cut!!!" Director Vidor investi-
gated. Then Director Vidor turned to me,
but before he finished firing his first verbal
salvo, Hull and Aherne excused them-
selves and hit for the nearest alley. They
looked mighty sick — and believe you me
they were! Director Vidor let go with a
second salvo of choice, hand-picked ex-
pletives about extras who played prac-
tical jokes. I took a step or two toward
the closest exit, but I never made it be-
cause a couple of strong-arm guys grabbed
me, and I had to stand there and take
what Director Vidor (and can that man
pour it on when he's mad) had to offer,
which was plenty.

Well, after the smoke had cleared away,
and tempers had cooled off, and the actors
returned to the set, and I had been re-
leased by the goon squad, Director Vidor
apologized handsomely. The cigars, he
said, were several months old and were
of a very inexpensive variety, intended
to be used only as decorations in a cigar
store window! It was the prop depart-
ment's error, not mine!

When his actors had sufficiently recov-
ered, Vidor sent out for a box of three-
for-a-half cigars, and the scene was filmed
without further incident. Thank heaven.
When the shooting was finished on this
particular piece of business the director
told me I could have the remainder of the
smokes, which was a nice gesture on his
part, and I took 'em — which was a nicer
gesture on my part!

■ By the way, and before I forget it, I
might mention that the tailoring busi-
ness is sure booming since My Son, My
Son started.

The screenplay covers nearly a quarter
of a century in time. As a consequence,
Brian Aherne and Louis Hayward, who
play the male leads of father and son,
respectively, have to keep up with con-
stantly changing styles. Aherne has more
than 30 different wardrobe changes,
Howard more than 15 and several other
principals have about as many, so that
the tailors were kept busy cutting and
fitting hundreds of garments.

Hayward told me a funny one between
scenes. He's not at all superstitious, but
he said he believes that there is some defi-
nite link between his career as a film star
and the automobiles he drives.

The reason is that something has hap-
pened to three different automobiles on
the day he started to work in his three
most recent pictures.

"On the day I started work in The Duke
oj West Point," he said, "car No. 1 caught
fire and was badly damaged. Car No. 2
was stolen on the day I began work in The
Man in the Iron Mask. Leaving home in

Car No. 3 for my first day's work in My
Son, My Son, I was horrified to find that
my brakes refused to work. With the car
plunging down a steep hill and gathering
momentum with every foot of progress,
I headed the car toward a big vacant plot
of ground, then jumped. As I rolled over
and over in the street I heard a terrific
noise, and when I got up, there, far away,
was Car No. 3, wheels up in the air, fenders
accordion-shaped, the roof completely off
and the sides caved in. I'm beginning to
dread the day when I report for work on
my next picture. I think I'll come to the
studio in a horse and buggy!"

So does Edward Small! Hayward's
next starring picture will be The Son of
Monte Cristo and you can bet Small will
see to it that there'll be no car accidents.
"I'll carry him to the studio in my arms if
I have to," is the way Small promises
protection.

■ There was much ado about something
late in the afternoon of my first day

on the set.

As you know, in making movies,
punches are "pulled" in fight scenes, al-
though they look realistic enough; In
this particular scene Director Vidor or-
dered Aherne to "pull" his punches when
he squared off against Pat Flaherty, who
plays the role of a bully in the slums of
Manchester, England. Aherne, according
to the script, was to attack and then smack
down his adversary with the old one-two.
Vidor ordered rehearsals and the fight
went off according to schedule, but when
the cameras began to turn and Aherne to
swing, Pat forgot to duck at the precise
moment Aherne's fist whizzed by, and
down he went. Vidor yelled out "Cut!"
and he was a mighty surprised director
when he saw that Flaherty didn't move.
It was fully five minutes before the non-
ducking Pat came to!

Now the astonishing thing about this
was that Flaherty had been picked for the
role because he is a very rugged indi-
vidual indeed, physically speaking. An
ex-baseball player, he saw service with
the Washington Senators, the Boston Red
Sox, and the New York Giants. Later, as
a pro-football player, he gamboled on the
greensward for the Chicago Bears, the
New York Giants and the Brooklyn
Horsemen. Three teeth were knocked
loose from their dental moorings and his
jaw had an egg-size lump on it as a result
of his forgetting to remember, but he took
it in stride. "That guy sure packs a wal-
lop," Pat praised, after being revived with
spirits of ammonia capsules.

■ I didn't have anything to do the next
morning but I came out to the set

anyway and watched twenty-five kids,
dressed up as slum urchins of Manchester,
play football in the mud. The kids ap-
peared to be having the time of their
young lives, and, if they tossed more mud
than football, nobody seemed to mind,
least of all the director, who seemed
mighty pleased with their antics. I can't
say that I found much fault with the boys,
either. That is, until one of them took
picks on me standing on the sidelines and
let go a handful of mud that landed iust

one-quarter inch south of my right eye.
Luckily for me the nurse in attendance
on the set stepped in. Cold mud, she said,
was not good for children to play in. So
property men had to hurry and heat huge
tanks of water. The hot water was then
poured over and soaked into the mud, so
that the kids could cavort with all the com-
forts of a modern health establishment
specializing in hot mud baths. I don't
know whether or not the warm mud in-
creased the kids' accuracy in mud sling-
ing, because I left — and in a hurry.

■ Around toward lunch time we extras
were called to another sound stage and
put to work on a set representing the Vic-
toria Station. I've never seen this famous
station, but the English actors in My Son,
My Son have, of course, and they said
that the set was so realistically built by
Art Director John DuCasse Schulze that it
looked as though it had actually been
transported from England. The same could
be said of the Brighton Belle, one of Eng-
land's most famous trains. To see it pull
out of the station you'd swear you were
really going somewhere. The script called
for the Brighton Belle to leave Victoria
Station. All the principals and hundreds
of extras were crowded onto the set and
the scramble to board the choo-choo was
something terrific.

Madeleine Carroll, by the way, told me
she had the "swellest" bunch of fan mail
in all Hollywood.

That sounded like a very broad state-
ment until she told me that this fan mail
has nothing to do with her picture work.
It came — and still does — from a group of
little French children who are quartered
in Madeleine's chateau, secluded from the
danger of Parisian air raids and gas at-
tacks. The chateau was converted into a
refuge for children immediately after the
war broke out, and will continue as such
as long as the danger exists.

The grateful children take time out from
their studies and play to write to Made-
leine, who got great joy out of reading and
translating the messages to the cast of My
Son, My Son.

Maybe you've noted, by now, how very
little happened to me on the picture. How
well, save for a few minor instances, I
managed to escape disaster. Well, there's
nothing extra — ordinary in that. I decided
to start the New Year right — even in my
acting. But you never can tell, I'll prob-
ably fall off the alley wagon when I'm
working again, which will be soon after
I finish this job in My Son, My Son, I hope,
I hope.

In the home of Osa Massed, young
Walter Wanger contract player, is a
highly prized silver mug. Once the leader
in her Danish domestic science classes,
Miss Massen won the trophy for baking
the best marsipan for a Copenhagen
competition. Since coming to Holly-
wood the talented young actress has
given her recipe for the confection to a
score of screen stars. Recently she baked
25 pounds of marsipan for a Finnish Re-
lief bazaar and most of the purchases
were sent to soldiers at the Arctic front.

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Budget

Loretta Young, next to be
seen in The Doctor Takes a
Wife, knows that perfumes,
as well as mirrors, should
reflect personalities, and
changes hers carefully to
fit costumes and

By ANN VERNON

| All that is sweet and lovely and
springlike — that's Loretta Young as
shown in this picture. Her filmy dress and
soft, glistening hair spell spring evenings
and romance. And they spell fragrance as
well — for a movie star would never feel
dressed unless an aura of perfume hung
around her.

All very well, I can hear you say. Loretta
and the other movie stars can afford to
bathe in perfume. But I can't — I'm on a
budget.

So what? Perfume isn't a luxury any
more. True, there are scents that start
at $25 and wend their way upwards, but
who said those were the only ones that
smell nice? I've found plenty of fine per-
fumes that cost only a dollar, and there
are all kinds of toilet waters and colognes
you can get for even less than that!

Being on a budget
doesn't prevent your
bathing often, does it?
It doesn't prevent your
washing your hair fre-
quently so that it al-
ways has a fresh smell.
Those are just as much
a part of being dainty
and sweet as using per-
fume. And without such
basic cleanliness, all
your fi n e perfumes
wouldn't be worth two

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through the proper girdle and
exercise. Send a stamped, self-
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beauty problems at the same
time. The address is: Ann Ver-
non, HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway, New York City.

cents. The glamour girls in Hollywood
know that, and you won't find one of
them skipping her two baths a day, or
neglecting to have her hair shampooed
weekly. They discovered the fun of bubble
baths — and even took them along into
some of their pictures. Joan Crawford's
bath in The Women was the last to appear
on the screen. Most of those I've chatted
with like to change perfumes with the
season. Right now they're wearing those
light floral bouquets and natural scents
like clover and lilac and apple blossom.
It's a good idea to slap scented cologne
or toilet water on profusely after your
morning bath. Most of these are so in-
expensive that you can be really lavish in
using them. Their fragrance lingers, and
is released later by the warmth of your
body. Very often, for sports or work-a-
day activities, your
cologne or toilet water
will give sufficient day-
time scent — especially
if you spray some on
your hair and pat some
on your arms. For an
added note on dress-up
or social occasions,
you'll want to add per-
fume in the same odor.
Apply perfume itself
to your hair, at the nape
of your neck and your

temples, to your ears and your eye-
brows. Touch your wrists with frag-
rance— there are still men who like to
kiss pretty ringers! Run the stopper of
your perfume bottle over your lips after
you've blotted off the excess lipstick. It
will set the color — and please your nose
and your beau's!

| If you need convincing after all this,
write me for the name of a Parisian
fragrance that is available in everything
from perfume to talc — and that includes
scented cologne, dusting powder and bath
crystals. The scent is delicate, romantic
and springlike. It's in good taste for every
occasion, and at all times. And it's easy
on the budget, too. There are two sizes of
the cologne priced at less than a dollar. The
huge box of dusting powder, enough for at
least a hundred rub-downs, is only 85
cents. The perfume itself costs a dollar,
and there's a purse flacon for less. The
low prices don't mean that this is an in-
ferior scent — not one bit. It's every bit
as refreshing as many much more expen-
sive ones, but so many people like it that
the manufacturer can afford to charge
less per person! Do be sure to ask for
the name.

■ One of our gentlest and best toilet
soaps has just been greatly improved.

It always was quick lathering, mild and
kind to tender skins, and fragrant to
smell. It looks just the same as it always
did — but the difference is instantly notice-
able the moment you start to lather up.
It lathers just like fury, now, and releases
the loveliest, most haunting scent. Two
out of every three women who tried it at
the manufacturer's request raved about
it. The nice thing is that the odor stays
with you long afterwards. Use the soap
in your bath, and for all facial washings.
It does a super cleansing job — even though
it's gentler with your skin than ever be-
fore. You'd think that, with so much
added goodness, the price would be in-
creased, but it's not! You can still get a
cake for a few pennies. I hope you'll
write me for its name.

■ Wouldn't you like to feel as languor-
ously luxurious as a movie star — in a

bubble bath? You can, and for the slight
cost of a few cents a tub. I found one the
other day that is priced at only a dollar for
8V2 ounces! That's a lot of bubble bath,
because you use just a few drops at a
time. Here's how. Dash about a tea-
spoonful into the tub, then turn on both
hot and cold faucets full force. If you don't
have much pressure in your water line,
hold a finger partly over the spigot to get
more. Now watch the iridescent bub-
bles mount up, making a blanket of
glistening foam, six to eight inches deep,
on top of the water! Climb in, lady, the
water's fine! But, please, just lie back
and relax for about five minutes before
starting to soap up. You get so much
more good out of your bath that way, be-
cause the warm water relaxes taut
muscles and tense nerves. And the fra-
grance arising from the tub is like a breath
of spring. Because, you see, this bubbling
essence is perfumed with one of the most

... • „.bodV. April Fool! With her tmpm-t "bumbershoaf this
She's nobody * «P" h he-s going!

young lady can look ahead ^ .. se e whe neW ideas in protection

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First" I Remember, too, all tne on

. tlme - you'll be thankful
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thankful, too, that Kote> , is made
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popular of our many fine scents. It's
spicy, but light and romantic — I know
you'll enjoy it. After you've stepped from
your bath, you'll discover another ad-
vantage^— the mineral salts of the bubbling
liquid act as a water softener (that makes
your skin feel satin smooth) and prevent
any ugly ring around the bathtub. Want
the name?

It should be no secret to you by this
time that bathing alone won't keep you
completely sweet. All the perfumes in
the world won't hide perspiration odor.
You have to use a reliable perspiration
corrective for that. Why not try a cream
that comes in a handy tube (grand to
carry in the purse) as well as jars for
your dressing table? It deodorizes so
completely that you can feel entirely safe.
It's soft and silky and disappears com-
pletely and quickly into your skin so that
you can go right on dressing. You can
use it immediately after shaving, if you
wish, because it will not dry or irritate
the skin. The tube costs a quarter. Want
the name?

Don't forget that clean, sweet hair can
do a lot to add to your daintiness. Brush

yours five minutes night and morning to
give it gloss. Set it with scented cologne
before you go dancing. And write me for
the name of a grand liquid cocoanut oil
shampoo that lathers copiously, quickly.
It does a most efficient job of cleansing the
hair, and removing all dirt, dandruff flecks
and perspiration. And it leaves the hair
soft and sheenful. If your hair is dry, you
should try the hair tonic from the same
manufacturer. It contains oil, so that it
cannot dry out the hair. Massage your
scalp with it nightly, to help normalize
your own oil supply — and give your hair
new gloss at the same time. Both the
shampoo and the hair tonic are inexpen-
sive. Want to know more?

Write me before April fifteenth, please,
if you would like the names of any of
the products mentioned in this article.
Be sure to enclose a stamped, self-
addressed envelope, and send your letter
to Ann Vernon, HOLLYWOOD Maga-
zine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

"Information Please" Quiz

[Continued from page 19]

(b) Now which movie stars would
you plant in the garden if you need
some trees? You should be able to
think of two.

2. If you are like a great many other movie
fans, the characters of Judge Hardy and
Andy and the engaging figures in other
series have become so real you almost
feel you know them. But can you name

(a) The home town in which Andy
Hardy's adventures have unfolded?

(b) The hospital where Dr. Kil-
dare performs his medical miracles?

(d) The family name of Dagwood
and Blondie?

3. The tallest edifice in New York and the
tallest in Paris were used as backgrounds
for scenes in two highly successful pic-
tures last year. Name the pictures and
the stars of each.

4. How well do you know your geography
in the movies? Names of several cities
have been used in picture titles. Can you
remember four?

5. Name the stars who played the title
roles in

(a) Bluebeard's Eighth Wife

(b) The Bride Wore Red

(d) The Gay Divorcee.

6. The brother of a United States Senator
is a movie actor who has been starred in
several English films. He has played in
American films, too. You saw him oppo-
site Marlene Dietrich in The Scarlet Em-
press, for one. Know his name?

7. Name a player whose last name is the
same as:

(a) A river in New York.,

(b) A lake in Canada

(d) A town in Alaska

8. You're really good if you can give the
first names of

(a) The three Ritz Brothers

(b) The four Marx Brothers..

9. You see a newsreel every time you go
to the movies, but the experts are betting
that you can't name the five newsreel
companies.

If there is a musician in the house, give
him top score if he can play the intro-
ductory theme for each.

10. The burning of Atlanta is a highlight
of Gone With the Wind. Two other his-
toric catastrophes supplied spectacular
backgrounds in a pair of films of the last
few years. What were they?

11. Something over 691,238 lines of news-
print were devoted not long ago to pub-
licizing the fact that Deanna Durbin re-
ceived her first screen kiss in First Love.
A young newcomer from Pasadena was
engaged to perform the osculatory ritual
and embraced not only Deanna but a
whole new career. Recall his name?

12. Speaking of kissing, do you know the
one country where film censors eliminate
all scenes of such amorous adhesions?

13. William Powell and Warren Williams
have both played the character of an eru-
dite man-about-town with a penchant for
solving mysteries. S. S. Van Dine cre-
ated him. What's his name?

14. When war broke out last September,
there was considerable speculation as to
the number of Hollywood topflight stars
who might be called up for service. Thus
far only two headline figures have been in
the armies of their respective countries.
Who are they?

15. List three cinematic celebrities who
use and are publicized and given screen
credits by but a single name.

16. In the early days of motion pictures,
producers, to guard against rivals steal-
ing their negatives and releasing the film
under their own imprint, used to display
their trademarks on some prop or piece of
scenery in every set photographed. There's
no such piracy now, but they are still
mighty proud of their trademarks in
Hollywood. Can you name four out of
five of the insignia of the following
companies:

(a) Universal

(b) RKO-Radio

(d) Paramount

(e) Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

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And still more awards! Humphrey Bogart honors the animal world by presenting
Germaine a cup for her acting ability in Warner Brothers' film The Fighting 69th

17. And to further test how carefully you (c) Over the Rainbow

notice the screen credits that preface films, /., Wichins

see if you can recall the names of an art __ ,_ ' '"'"

director, who is the husband of a Mexican 22; Namf five VounS actors who have

star of the silent days, and a sound en- achieved screen prominence, all of whose

gineer, brother of one of his studio's top fathers were stars before them-

stars. Both names are on virtually every

M-G-M feature release

18. Two of the most widely- discussed
films of the new season, Grapes of Wrath

and Of Mice and Men, were penned by the

same author. What is his name?

19. The Great Emancipator has been the 23- And> on the subject of fathers, two
inspiration of two movies this year, Young Hollywood headliners are each the proud
Mr. Lincoln and Abe Lincoln in Illinois. PaPas of a set of twins. Can you name
Do you remember in what other recent them— the stars, not the twins?

film hit the majestic statue of the mar- j

tyred President was used as a background

for a touching emotion scene? " '

24. From the description of the charac-
ters they portrayed, name three out of
four of the following players and the titles
of the pictures concerned:

(a) The juvenile song writer who
fainted when his first tune was pur-
chased

(b) The taxi driver who promoted
a lottery among Paris cabbies to trace
his sweetheart

(d) The romantic-minded matron
on the dude ranch near Reno whose
theme was "L'amour, toujours,
l'amour!"

25. What motion picture titles would you
think of if you came upon cartoons of:

(a) A man vainly trying to make
his cigarette lighter work?

(b) A chef dropping a hot
potato?

(d) A store detective chiding a
shoplifter?

20. Four of Hollywood's most glamorous
stars are married to doctors. We'll give
you full credit if you can name three out
of four of them. One of the actresses is
Norwegian, the second was born in France,
the third was a school teacher from Louis-
ville and the fourth, who recently drew
hearty praise for her first appearance on
the screen in America, comes from Stock-
holm. Can you name the stars if we list
their doctor husbands:

Dr. Laurence Spangard

Dr. Joel Pressman

Dr. Francis Griffin

Dr. Peter Lindstrom

21. Here are four song hits of the past year,
name the picture in which they were in-
troduced, and the star who sang them.
You have to get three out of four on
this one.

(a) Two Sleepy People

(b) You're a Sweet Little Headache....

ANSWERS

Information Please Quiz

1. (a) Lewis Stone

Clark Gable

Peggy Woods

Donald Woods, too, for that matter

Bob Steele

John Payne (window-pane, of

course! )
Betty Furness
(b) Stan Laurel
Eric Linden
Jack Oak(ie)
And what's wrong with (Slapsie

Maxie Rosenbloom? )

2. (a) Carvel

(b) General Hospital

(d) Bumstead

3. The Eiffel tower in Paris in Ninotchka,
starring Greta Garbo and the Empire
State Building in Love Affair, starring
Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne.

San Francisco
Little Old New York
In Old Chicago
St. Louis Blues

4. Honolulu
Reno

Dodge City
Virginia City

5. (a) Claudette Colbert

(b) Joan Crawford

(d) Ginger Rogers

6. John Lodge, brother of Senator Henry
Cabot Lodge, of Massachusetts.

7. (a) Rochelle Hudson

(b) Anita Louise

(d) Douglas Fairbanks

8. (a) Al, Jimmy and Harry Ritz

(b) Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Zeppo
Marx

9. Paramount News, Fox Movietone
News, News of the Day, Universal
Newsreel, and Pathe.

10. The fire in In Old Chicago and the
earthquake and fire in San Francisco.

11. Robert Stack

12. Japan

13. Philo Vance

14. Charles Boyer, who was mobilized into
the French army and later demobi-
lized, and David Niven, now believed
to be in France with the Scottish regi-
ment in which he held a commission
before coming to Hollywood.

15. Zorina, dancer of On Your Toes.
Annabella.

Adrian, M-G-M designer

Sabu

Garbo

Margo

16. (a) A revolving globe.

(b) A radio tower broadcasting in
Morse code.

(d) A mountain fringed with stars.

(e) A lion.

17. Cedric Gibbons, husband of Dolores
Del Rio, is art director at M-G-M,
where Douglas Shearer, brother of
Norma Shearer, heads the sound de-
partment.

18. John Steinbeck.

19. The romantic reunion of James Stew-
art and Jean Arthur inside the Lincoln
Memorial in Mr. Smith Goes to Wash-
ington.

20. Sigrid Gurie is Mrs. Laurence Span-
gard, Claudette Colbert is Mrs. Joel
Pressman, Irene Dunne is Mrs. Francis
Griffin and Ingrid Bergman, who made
her American debut in Intermezzo, is
Mrs. Peter Lindstrom.

21. (a) Thanks for the Memory, Bob

Hope and Shirley Ross.

(b) Paris Honeymoon, Bing Crosby.

(d) Love Affair, Irene Dunne.

22. Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Lon Chaney,
Jr., Noah Beery, Jr., Tim Holt, son of
Jack Holt, and Russell Gleason, son of
James Gleason.

23. Richard Dix and Bing Crosby.

24. (a) Mickey Rooney in Babes in Arms.

(b) Don Ameche in Midnight.

(d) Mary Boland in The Women.

25. (a) The Light That Failed.

(b) Too Hot to Handle.

(d) You Can't Take It With You.

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INDIGESTION

Back Into Time— 1,000,000 Years

[Continued from page 27]

by a childish hand, of men, a river and
some queer animal. A scientist in the
party interprets the picture. In times
before recorded history there had been a
mastodon hunt, and a meeting between
strange tribes . . .

As the scientist speaks, the modern holi-
daymakers project themselves into the
figures of that distant day. The modern
world fades and they act out amid pri-
meval surroundings the events of which
the rock picture forms a record. There's a
commentator, but practically no dialogue
— a few words spoken in an obsolete Indian
tongue by some of the characters, a muted
chant before a feast. Chiefly, however,
the tense, dramatic action tells the story.

It is a simple but touching story of
man's progress from savagery toward
idealism. Tumak of the dark-haired Rock
Tribe is among those who progress. He
never dreamed of anyone sparing an
enemy's life until, half dead of wounds,
he floats downstream into the land of the
light-haired Shell Tribe. The Shells have
advanced to spears. Tumak sees that
they could spit him neatly on one while
he was reaching for shore, yet, instead
of slaying him, they allow the Golden One
to nurse him back to strength. Does he
fall in love with her? Three guesses!

Love teaches him compassion. When
he learns that a remnant of his own tribe
has survived a volcanic eruption (a
splendid scene!) but has been hemmed in
by accompanying earthquakes and land-
slides, he goes to their rescue and leads
them to safety in the land of the Shell
people.

| Around this straightforward plot are
grouped incidents of breath-taking
excitement. Near the beginning, Lon
Chaney, Jr., tangles with a musk-ox.
Gored and trampled, he is nearly un-
recognizable at the end of the battle —
thanks to make-up secrets learned from
his father. Instead of the superb speci-
men who ruled his clan by physical prow-
ess he has become a mutilated shadow.
Half blind, crippled in an arm and leg, he
looks — his fellow actors admiringly told
him — as if he'd been through a cement
mixer.

Another scene of dramatic tension, and
far more dramatic than the script called
for, is Tumak's escape from the prehis-
toric elephants. Queenie and Sally, vet-
eran actors both, were dressed in a kind
of wool overcoats to turn them into woolly
mammoths. Queenie, intelligently aware
of her role, was chasing Mature over a
portion of Fire Valley when Mature,
glancing over his shoulder, stumbled and
fell. No time to roll out of the way;
Queenie was right behind him. The
thunder of her enormous feet shook the
ground on which he lay as her ponder-
ous bulk rushed over him.

Victor raised his head to find the rest
of the cast in a state of collapse. He didn't
feel any too perky himself. But Queenie's
owner laughed. "She never steps on
anyone," he said comfortably.

■ Another narrow escape was due to the
scenery. Out on location they spent

more than $250,000 of the $1,000,000 budget
to build supplements to the Fire Valley
scenery and in some places to prop up the
scenery so that it wouldn't crumble
beneath the nimble warrior-hunters.
Nimble is right. With bits of wolfskin
about them, they scaled heights, swung
from pinnacles, led a life almost as stren-
uous as the primitive men whom they
impersonated.

Well, they reinforced a rock shelf for
Tumak, so that he could jump down to it
from a considerable height and over a
considerable crevice. He jumped, but in
doing so he dislodged a couple of boulders
which followed him across the crevice
and landed on the shelf, still traveling.
He had to roll off the shelf and hold on
below it while they skimmed above, his
head and shot into space.

Other adventures were chalked up to
various members of the cast. Hubbard
and Carole were studying the script on a
cliff top when Hubbard said: "Don't
move!" She didn't — although a big taran-
tula was crawling across her bare foot.
Not at all interested in picture people, but
merely taking a short cut, the spider
walked off her instep and down the hill.

Also, there was the evening when Hal
Roach, Lon Chaney, Jr., and some others
went for a drive. As they rounded a sharp
curve the car came to a stop with the
front wheels hanging over the cliff. For
a moment,' they just sat there. Then
Chaney, who is 6 feet 3 inches tall and
weighs 210 pounds, opened the door, got
out very slowly so as not to upset the
delicate equilibrium, and hung on to the
car, balancing it, while the others crept
to safety.

■ These moments, however, were
dwarfed by the conundrum: What

becomes of Hubbard? Whenever work
finished early, John would be missing.
Somebody finally discovered him in the
corral with the Brahman steers (decked
in proper makeup, these steers play the
prehistoric musk-oxen) waving red satin
capes at them.

It seems Bud Boetticher, assistant cast-
ing director, is known as "Don Manfred"
below the Mexican border where he is a
professional bullfighter. Hubbard wanted
to acquire the art, so Bud gave him in-
structions and loaned him the capes. When
opportunity offered, John would slip away
to the corral where these wide-horned
steers watched, goggle-eyed, his attempts
to make them fight. When discovered,
John was maneuvering the capes valiantly
but the steers were bunched in a corner,
scared to death.

"It's my beard," John complained. They
made him raise one for the picture, the
Shell Tribe not having progressed from
spears to razors.

So, to express their feelings, he and
Mature learned to howl like Nevada
coyotes. After the company returned to
Hollywood, they'd get into a corner of the

prehistoric-garden-spot set and howl and
howl.

Art Director Danny Hall, aided by D.
H. Mauerhan, an expert in landscaping
movie sots, combed the world three
months for foliage that might have ex-
isted a million years ago. Where there
was no scientific precedent, they imported
unusual plants or made 'em up out of
their own heads.

' One item is the top of a 50-foot syca-
more tree fitted with eucalyptus leaves
and touched up with Mexican fern on
a sword bamboo base. "Nature played
stranger pranks than Hollywood ever
dreamed of," Mauerhan said — and hung
small squashes upside down on magnolia
"vines" upon a manzanita stump. The set
cost $24,000— and it's a beauty.

For some of the animals that lurk about
the garden as well as for those hunted
by the sun-tanned aborigines, Antone
Martin was hired as technical expert. He's
the paleontologist who carves prehistoric
beasts in wood with such accuracy that
his replicas of those from La Brea Pits
are in the Smithsonian Institute.

Thanks partly to Martin's advice, the
Rock Tribe was to dine for the cameras on
roast wild pig. Obeying Director Roach's
instructions in primitive etiquette, Chief
Lon Chaney, Jr., snatched the best hunk
of meat, followed in turn by his warriors,
and, last, by the women. All except
Jacqueline Dalya, the dark-haired Rock
siren, who was supposed to tear off a pig
leg.

Jane Withers, co-starring with Gene
Autry in Twentieth Century-Fox's film
Shooting High, lends her talents to the
guitar-strummm' and yodeling scenes

"I'm a vegetarian," she protested, "I
can't eat meat!"

So the meal waited until a meatless leg
of pork could be substituted. They made
it of macaroon paste!

Watching our dawn ancestors squatted
in skis around the prehistoric cafe-

teria, it struck you that in spite of dino-
saurs and dingbats, they were having it
pretty soft. No dishes to wash. No styles
to change. No income tax. Heigh ho.

Here's a prehistoric kid eating an ice
cream cone between scenes, the goo run-
ning down his wolf-hide wrap-around.
Over there, Nigel De Brulier is having his
hair made more primordial. "Quite!" he
says with a fine British accent. Carole
herself, in dark glasses and doeskin slip-
on, is reading a book. She goes to night
school and studies English literature,
Spanish, and French. Some aborigine!

Near by stands Rosemary Theby, a Shell
matron, and Ed Coxen, Shell prophet, both
of whom played in pictures with Mrs. Hal
Roach when, as Marguerite Nichols, she
was Henry Walthall's leading lady. In a
corner, three cave men and a cave girl are
vigorously tossing a hand ball, as if they
didn't get enough exercise climbing cliffs
and trees!

And right before you looms a ferocious
warrior of the Rock tribe. Gee. He'd as
soon bash you with a rock as look at you.
Straggly black hair, straggly black beard,
bloodthirsty expression. It can't all be
make-up. It's the true type. So primitive
man still exists, exactly as some scientists
contend, and you meet the species to-
day . . .

Director Roach summons his players.
The Neanderthal hangover crosses in front
of you and ducks his head.

" 'Scuse me," says the dawn man.

Ah, dawn — in Hollywood!

/Ma iady mm a past/ \

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Fixin s f Of
BsiKQCf Hditi

Frances Lang ford and Jon Hall are fond of in-
formal entertaining. Here are some of their
favorite dishes for their famous buffet suppers

BETTY CROCKER

| If nominations are in
order for the couple
that gets the most fun out
of life, let's put forward
Jon Hall and Frances
Langford, because they
really know how. Frances
and Jon live simply, spend
their leisure hours on their
sail boat, and enjoy those
unpretentious gatherings
of friends which often are
more real fun than the
more ambitious Holly-
wood parties.

Sitting around their comfortable play
room — which reminds you so much of
Jon's own Tahiti with its mat rugs, bamboo
furniture and native wall hangings — the
tiny radio and screen star discussed "en-
tertaining without tears."

"A baked ham is my favorite solution
for a party," said Frances, "because it's
easy to prepare and of course goes a long
way. That calls for baked yams, home-
cooked biscuits, jelly-rolls, and my fa-
vorite pineapple souffle salad."

"Sounds delicious," we agreed, and so
Frances brought out the cook book con-
taining the recipes. The ham, of course,
speaks for itself. Down in Frances' native
Florida they baked a fresh ham, but
Frances prefers the now popular type
which is specially treated to insure a
delicate cut of meat.

One of the singer's fa-
vorite side dishes for ham
is Corn and Tomatoes
Au Gratin. It's a colorful
and delicious casserole
affair that's very con-
venient to serve at a buffet
supper.

CORN AND TOMATOES
AU GRATIN

1 No. 2 can whole
kernel corn (,2Vz
cups)

1 No. 2 can tomatoes (2% cups)

1 small green pepper, chopped

1 cup coarse cracker crumbs

V-h tsp. salt

-h tsp. pepper

1 tsp. sugar

3 tbsp. melted butter

Vz cup grated American cheese

2 tbsp. butter

Combine corn, tomatoes, green pepper,
V2 cup of the cracker crumbs, salt, pepper,
sugar and melted butter. Pour into a large
shallow buttered baking dish — 10 by 6
inches and 2 inches deep. Sprinkle cheese
and remaining Vz cup cracker crumbs over
top and dot with butter. Bake 30 minutes
in a moderately hot oven, 400° F. This
makes 8 to 10 servings.

There are those who prefer a green

salad with their baked ham, but Frances
has yet to have anybody refuse a second
helping of her beautiful crispy cabbage
slaw in a sunshiny lemon gelatin ring
crammed full of carrots and crushed
pineapple.

COMPLEXION SALAD

1 package lemon jelly powder

1V_ cups grated raw carrots

VA cups crushed pineapple (drained)

Prepare lemon jelly powder according
to directions on package — using pineapple
juice for part of the liquid. When the
gelatin begins to set, add the carrots and
pineapple. Pour into a large ring mold.
Chill until firm. Unmold and fill center
with cabbage slaw and garnish with crisp
leaves from hearts of lettuce.

Frances says she adds a few sliced brazil
nuts and bits of green pepper to her cab-
bage slaw to zip it up.

■ There's nothing like an old-fashioned
jelly roll, served with ice cream, to top
off a ham supper, says Frances. Her own
recipe is this one:

JELLY ROLL

3 eggs

1 cup sugar

5 tbsp. cold water

FREE

Six Different Ways to Serve Ham
Boiled ham is wonderful for one meal, but why not surprise the family with some different
dishes with the rest of the cut? If you would like to have six recipes for different and de-
licious dishes made from ham, just fill in the coupon below and I shall send them to you
without charge.

Betty Crocker
HOLLYWOOD Magazine
1501 Broadway
New York City

Please send me your six recipes for ham dishes

Name

Street

City State

1 tsp. flavoring

1 cup cake flour or all-purpose flour

1 tsp. baking powder

V± tsp. salt

% cup jelly or jam

Beat eggs with rotary beater until very
light. Beat in sugar gradually. Beat in
water and flavoring. Sift flour once before
measuring. Sift flour, baking powder and
salt together, and beat into the egg mix-
ture— all at once. Beat until smooth and

well blended. Pour immediately into shal-
low pan, 10 by 15 inches, which has been
greased and lined with greased paper.
(Batter should be only Vz inch deep in
pan.) Bake for 12 to 15 minutes in a quick
moderate oven, 375° F. When baked, turn
upside down immediately on a cloth
sprinkled with confectioners' sugar, re-
move paper, and cut edges off cake so that
it will not split when rolled. Spread with
jelly or jam and roll carefully and quickly
— wrapping in towel until cool.

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Name . . .
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The customary "Births, Marriages, and
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a rival journal offers as another variation:
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■

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■

■

_
■

■

_
■

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6.
10.
11.
12.
14.
15.
16.
17.
19.
21.
22.
24.
25.
26.

28.
30.

31.

34.
37.
33.
40.
42.
43.
45.
46.
47.
48.
50.
51.
52.
54.
55.

ACROSS

A star of The Housekeeper's Daughter.
Popular terra for a motion picture.

for a Day.

The Man. They Could Not .

Initials of Mr. Scott.

What heroes generally do in film fights.

We Not Alone.

George Ernest's initials.
It Could Happen to .

Heroine of He Married His Wife.

Miracles Sale.

You saw her in The Dancing Co-Ed.

Middle name of Cora Collins.

Star of High School.

What Laurel and Hardy are on screen

(Slang.).

Adrian's bride.

Whose role is that of Bessie Broke in The

Light That Failed?

A star of Legion of Lost Fliers.

Pinocchio's most prominent feature.

Movie theatres often open at this time of day.

Women Have Secrets.

In Only.

The and the Canary.

Star of Way Dcnvn South.
He rode Tony in Westerns.
Initials of Miss Rich.
Fred Murray.

Some Like It .

Lloyd Ingraham's initials.

Boy actor who was Hank in Blackmail.

Old Joe in S'.vanee River.

Lilliput's town crier in Gulliver's Travels.

of Lost Men (pi.).

1.
2.
3.

4.
5.

9.
11.
13.
16.
18.
20.
21.
23.
25.
27.
28.
29.

32.
33.

35.
36.
38.
39.

41.
43.
44.
47.

49.
51.
53.

DOWN

Mrs. Butler in A Woman Is the Judge.
Mr. Hamilton's initials.

Frontier.

Morrisine in On Your Toes.

Whose role is that opposite Ann Sothern in

Fast and Furious?

Feminine lead in The Great Victor Herbert.

Hour To Live.

Virginia Grey's initials.

Middle name of Edward Horton.

J. C. Dithers in Blondie Brings Up Baby.

What actors use to remove make-up.

With the Wind.

Lily Belle Callahan in Destry Rides Again.
Sandra in That's Right — You're Wrong.
Popular term for a movie enthusiast.
Comedienne wed to George Burns.
His last name is Robards.

The Never Sets.

Fiances Langford's husband.

There is much of this in Broadway Melody

of 1940.

Sound made by M-G-M's Leo.

Motion picture studio and its adjoining

territory.

He was Siggie in Golden Boy.

Remember Jannings?

Lights used in movie studios.
Whose comments create mirth in Fox Movie-
tone News?
Ways out of a theatre.
Sandy is one.

His last name is Madison.
Kind of scene in which many movie extras
appear.

This beverage is popular with British stars.
Binnie's initials.
Initials of one who has title role in Raffles.

(Solution on page 65)

Hollywood Newsreel

[Continued from page 8]

but neither did I stop shaking for five or
six days!"

Yakima Canute (remember that stunt
of his in Stagecoach where he falls under
those horses hooves?) will do the "book"
of movie stunts and cry for more, but try
to get him near a fire. He's so afraid of
getting burned that he shivers when he
strikes a match to light a cigarette!

M John Garfield really has time on his
hands — a 500-year-old wrist watch.
Garfield acquired the ancient time piece
during a trip to Mexico last summer. It is
an Aztec time-teller about the size of a
50-cent piece. It tells time by shadow
markings. Garfield had it mounted as a
wrist watch and it's all very fine except
that he has to face north whenever he
wants to use it.

8 Lloyd Nolan had a hair-raising ex-
perience recently. He was flagged
down on Sunset Boulevard by a man
whose car was stalled. The man, a local
attorney named Gustave L. Goldstein, had
been rushing his wife to a hospital for a
blessed event. Lloyd bundled the two in
his car and broke all speed limits down
Sunset. Which was fortunate for all con-
cerned, because the baby — a girl — was
born less than half an hour after Lloyd
deposited Mrs. Goldstein at the hospital.

H Louis Hayward is going to be a neigh-
borhood shopper from now on. Want-
ing some rare Irish rose plants for his
garden, he cabled an order to a Dublin
florist and had them shipped out of
Ireland via the Clipper. A day or so after
they had arrived, Louis glanced through
a catalogue and found the same roses ad-
vertised for fifty cents each. Another
glance disclosed the fact that they could
be purchased from a florist who was
doing business only four blocks from the
Hayward home!

ft Usually, in counting the cost of motion
pictures, the public loses sight of all
expenditures except the salaries of the
players, directors, and artisans involved
in . the process of making pictures. Few
realize that for every foot of finished
negative, a very substantial amount of raw
material has been consumed.

Take one item — rags, for instance.
Warner Brothers, during 1930, bought 400
bales of rags, 20,000 pounds in all. More
than 300 pounds of this lowly item were
used per picture by painters, cleaners,
decorators and others in their work.

The film laboratories of this same major
studio used 60,000 gallons of distilled
water and studio employees drank 102,000
gallons of bottled spring water.

More than 15,000 electric lamps, varying

in size from 7V2 watts to 5,000 watts were
purchased last year. The 5,000 watt lamp
is the big one which gives enough light
to illuminate at least three average homes.
Six hundred and twenty-eight of these
were used last year along with 942 lamps
of 2,000 watts each, and 945 lamps of 1,000
watts each. In all, the studio bought lamps
totaling 7,331,900 watts, enough to light up
a city of 15,000 people.

Take lumber. During the past year the
studio bought more than 4,000,000 square
feet of lumber.

To make its program of pictures the
studio needed 21,969 gallons of paint,
and 22,633 gallons of thinner and sol-
vent. More than 60 tons of paint were
spread over the floors and walls, exteriors
and interiors of the sets built for 1939
films — more than a ton of paint per
picture.

Warners bought more than 31,000 rolls
of wallpaper in 1939. Stretched out and
laid end to end, these rolls would make a
strip 630 miles long.

The studio's transportation department
used up 276,601 gallons of gas and 8,000
gallons of lubricating oil to keep its motors
running for the necessary 2,500,212 miles
which the fleet of trucks and passenger
cars covered in 1939. In the laboratories,
156,470 pounds of chemicals were used.

All these items are raw materials not
commonly considered by the layman in
figuring pictures costs, but they add up
to huge sums.

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Joan Crawford's "llousegiicsl

[Continued from page 28]

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famous Adrian. And Guilaroff, the hair-
stylist— all there, each snatching a minute,
or two minutes of Joan's attention. Then
everything was finally done, and tests
made, and the following day we sat across
a luncheon-table and really talked about
the child.

And Joan said: "I told you, shortly
after I was separated from Franchot that
someday I planned to adopt a child, be-
cause I felt that a woman, to find happiness
at all, had to be urgently needed. Not in
the material sense — but for herself, as a
person.

"My plans then were to adopt a very
young baby-boy and later to find a little
sister for him. But things of this sort
take time. I had had to readjust my
career and my personal life. And so at
the present, my plans are in abeyance.

"But in the meanwhile, my life has sud-
denly found point and purpose through my
brother's child.

"Joanie-Pants (I call her that because
she has an aversion to such garments),
was an incubator baby. She was so
fragile at birth that we had little hope
that she would live.

"But she did — and thrived, and after
three months in the hospital, she was taken
home.

"I was the doting aunt from the begin-
ning. I used to drive the forty odd miles
between my house and that of my sister-
in-law in the Valley, every day, just to
see the sleeping baby for a minute — or
to watch the eventful ceremony known
as 'bathing the baby'.

"It wasn't long before Joanie became a
regular week-end guest at my house. A
room was set aside as a nursery. We
decorated it in blue and white. Kasha,
my sister-in-law, is unselfish. She real-
ized how much the baby meant to me,
and how much we loved each other. So,
as the years went by, Joanie occupied
the nursery more and more frequently.

| "When Joanie-Pants was just past a
year she created her name for me.

"It happened this way: A magazine had
a picture of me on the cover. In some
way the baby got hold of it. She looked at
it intently, then touched it, then kissed it.
And suddenly she said softly — 'Baby'!
I happened to come in just then. She
held out her arms to me and shouted — ■
'Baby'! You see, she associated her name
and mine. I've been 'Baby' ever since.

"It's curious how much basic wisdom
a child can teach us. Adults believe that
we are the ones who mould and form the
very young. Yet, I venture to suggest
that we ourselves change more through
association with youngsters than the
youngsters do!

"Joanie has taught me many wonderful
things. She has taught me how to play
■with complete relaxation. She is free and
easy and uninhibited. She concentrates
completely on enjoyment.

"I have never known what it was to
forget yesterday and forget tomorrow. To
disregard the problems which like probing

fingers kept poking into my brain, even
when the day was done — when I was en-
titled to dismiss them for a little while.

"Now, I can settle down with Joanie
to a game of tag, or a swim, or to a class
in geography for the dolls, without once
thinking about lines or scenes, or what
some columnist has written- in criticism.

K "I can see myself so frequently in
Joanie. She is impatient. She will
demand — 'But why can't I have it? I
want it NOW!

"I, too, have always wanted things NOW.
I've broken my heart a score of times over
inescapable delays.

"Joanie has taught me the value of time.
Nothing of importance can happen over-
night. There is a definite and precise cycle
through which events and lives must pass.
That has been my hardest lesson to learn.

"Now I know that everything passes — ■
given time. Six months ago I thought
nothing would ever change. That I would
continue perplexed and unhappy. But
the wheel spun on. And here I am —
happier than I have been in years.

"I suppose one reason is that now, at
last, all the conflict in my private life, all
my confusion about what will happen to
Joan Crawford, as a human being, is
dissolved.

"I know, for instance, that my decision
never to marry again will not change.
That is a difficult conclusion for a woman
to reach when human relationships are as
important as they are to me.

"I have changed imperceptibly, but
definitely in the past six months. I don't
take things so hard. A friend who became
no longer a friend, made me feel as if I
had failed in some vital quality.

"Perhaps I expected too much of people
in the past. Perhaps I suffered from a
perfectionist complex. All I know, is
that I made myself wretched over disloy-
alty and unfairness and broken faith. Now,
I take them in my stride.

| "I see Joanie take things so philo-
sophically. A bruised knee, a broken
doll is a matter of moment — for the
MOMENT. And then she forgets it. I
am trying to acquire that imperturbable
serenity of hers. I consider matters as
they occur, evaluate their importance, do
the best I can with them, and then dismiss
them from my mind.

"Do you remember how rattled I used
to get in emergencies? I don't any more.
It was through Joanie that I learned self-
control.

"I was driving her to dancing-school
one day; she was hanging over the seat.
I cautioned her that she might get hurt if
I had to stop suddenly. Just then she
leaned over to kiss me, her hat blew off,
and she screamed 'stop!' I didn't know
what happened, but I stepped on newly-
adjusted brakes automatically. Joanie
was thrown hard against the windshield
and catapulted into the back of the car.

"Children are scarred by such experi-
ences. I knew that I had to minimize the

seriousness of the accident, if she were
to forget it quickly.

"I took her in my arms, knew that she
was frightened and hurt — and I began to
talk to her!

" 'Joanie, you were so funny when you
made your somersault. I've never seen
anything so funny in all my life. And
your face had the most surprised look.
I wish I had a picture of you like that.
You looked exactly like Donald Duck.'

"I kept her face pressed against my
shoulder so that she wouldn't see my tears
and my face. But I kept my voice gay —
I chuckled as I talked to her.

"When her face remained crinkled up,
ready for tears, I whispered our magic
formula — 'Whoa, Bill'. That means be-
tween us that we're grown up and we
don't cry.

"She began to laugh — and when we
came home we went into hysterics of
laughter — Joanie, because she thought the
accident was amusing, and I, from relief.

"That night I said to myself — 'If you
can keep your head in every emergency
as you have in this one, you'll save your-
self a lot of grief.' I've remembered that
accident to good advantage in instances
where it was imperative that I think fast
and think clearly.

M "Joanie has serious plans for herself.
She has amazing dramatic ability. She
picks up a dance routine merely by watch-
ing it once. She says: T want to be A
ACTRESS, like Baby'.

"Naturally that pleases and flatters me.
I am delighted by her demands to have
peasant-dresses precisely like mine, by
her efforts to copy my speech and my walk
and my general attitudes.

"Needless to say, I am more careful
about what I say and do, than I have ever
been in my life. After all, my first duty
to her is to set a good example.

"I do not intend to use my influence in
helping her to success either on the stage
or on the screen. I WILL help her — do
everything in my power — to PREPARE
herself for it. But I won't lift a finger to
get her there. My sister-in-law and I agree
on this, as in other things.

"She'll have to do things under her own
steam, on the strength of her own talents,
and courage and spunk. Achieving things
the hard way is the only way to get lasting
satisfaction out of success.

"She has aafine mind — at three, we took
her out of school because she was far
too advanced for her age. She has only
recently returned to school. And inci-
dentally, she attends a public school.

"Her mother and I are trying to teach
her to be self-reliant and self-sufficient.
She makes her own bed in the morning
and dresses herself. Occasionally, she
comes in for help with a difficult button
or a shoe-lace, but with a little encourage-
ment she finds that she can do it herself.

"We don't want her to be dependent in
the routine of living. But we do want her
to know constantly that help and approval
and love are constantly at her command.

"Children give us those wonderful
things — the least we can do is to return
their trust and faith with the best we
have."

For Smart America

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The Art of Mr, Donlevy

[Continued jrom page 30]

until Brian Waldo was 10 months old, then
they moved to the United States where the
elder Donlevy went into the woolen busi-
ness. The period of Brian Waldo's life from
10 months until 12 months is suspiciously
veiled and it is likely he picked up his
villainous ways then. Generally speaking
all humans at 10 months are scoundrels,
and I would not be surprised if Brian
Waldo scaled his crib, slunk over to the
neighbor's baby's crib, scaled that and
slammed the inmate a fast one across his
loud mouth. This is just conjecture of
course, but when a person hides his diaper
days, you can bet your last two-bits he
will grow up a cad.

Brian went to school at Sheboygan
Falls (a Wisconsin outpost), Cleveland
and Beaver Dam. In Cleveland he took to
writing poetry with the inevitable result
that he had to take up the art of manly
defense to accommodate attacks from the
less soulful of the grammar school crowd.
When the family moved to Beaver Dam
somebody gave Brian a bugle. This bugle
can be said to be the turning point in our
villain's life for it did two things: (1) it
gave him a chest like a cracker-barrel;
(2) it got him in the army.

Somehow the Wisconsin National Guard
unit lost its bugler and young Mr. Don-
levy got the job. Not long after that his
company was sent to help General Per-
shing at the time the General was trying
to run down and chastise the Mexicans in
what is known as the Mexican Punitive
Expedition. Brian was roughly twelve
years old then, pretty young for soldier-
ing, but he swelled his chest, stood on his
tiptoes and told a whopper. The whopper
added several years to his age and netted
him a trip to Mexico as the company
bugler. In all fairness it should be added
— and this is going to hurt the Donlevy
Despisers — that he did not sell out to the
Mexicans and it is not true he slipped the
General a side-winder with his corn
flakes.

Nine months with the General and Brian
returned to Wisconsin and the fold. The
fold promptly buttoned him up in St.
John's Military Academy at Dale Field,
Wisconsin. He was there until the age of
fourteen when he came home and told
the fold he was joining up with the Lafay-
ette Escadrille to show the Germans a
thing or two. What is more, he did. He

got to France, learned combat flying, and
did three years of patrol duty and pursuit
flying at the Front. For that he got shot
twice, once in the head and once in the leg.

The one he got in the head you wouldn't
believe if you saw it in a movie. Mr.
Donlevy was flying along when a slug hit
him and knocked him colder than Rover's
nose. When he came out of it he was still
in the air and blood was rippling across
his face. When he landed the plane it
was right in front of a hospital, and so
America's Nightmare was preserved.

As if General Pershing and the World
War weren't enough he received an ap-
pointment to the Naval Academy at
Annapolis, where he proposed to become
a navy flyer. He resigned after one year
because he found that he had to do four
years of sea duty before he could switch
to the flying service. "The next year," says
Mr. Donlevy remorsefully, "they changed
those regulations so you could get into the
flying service immediately. But that's
the way things happen to me. The old
Donlevy luck."

| He had done some theatricals at An-
napolis so he decided he'd take a
whirl at the New York stage. In New
York he found that although he loved
the stage tenderly the stage showed no
feeling for him, so one day he looked up
an artist named Leyendecker. During the
war Mr. Leyendecker had painted posters
and one time whilst Mr. Donlevy was
wandering around in a French dugout he
rammed his head into one of these posters.
The incident started a correspondence
going between the two men. It helped.
Mr. Leyendecker used him as a model for
Arrow Collar ads and once for an Egyp-
tian princess for a Saturday Evening Post
cover. He also advised him to join the
Green Room Club where he'd have a
chance to chin with theatre people. Mr.
Leyendecker knew the ropes all right,
because Mr. Donlevy met the late
lamented Louis Wolheim there and Wol-
heim liked him so much he gave him the
part of Sarge Quirt in What Price Glory.
There was no stopping Mr. Donlevy
after that for he played romantic and
comedy roles with regularity and adroit-
ness for the next twelve years in such
plays as Rainbow, Queen Bee, Hit the
Deck, Society Girl, Three Cornered Moon,
Perfumed Lady and The Milky Way. It
should be pointed out again that all this
time Mr. Donlevy was a comedian, lovable
and virtuous, if you can call drinking
virtuous, for he had made quite a name
for himself as a captivating dipsomaniac.
Then in 1935 Harold Lloyd imported him
to play the part of a prize fighter in the
Hollywood version of The Milky Way.
Mr. Donlevy is built like Hercules, and is
almost hysterically athletic, so up to there
it all sounds sensible. From there on,
though, it is a little hard to follow. The
picture was delayed and during the lull
Mr. Donlevy called on his old pal Robert
Mclntyre, casting director for Sam Gold-
wyn. It was friendly Mr. Mclntyre who

murdered Mr. Donlevy, the comedian,
and recast him as Mr. Donlevy, the black-
guard in Barbary Coast.

"Ever since," mourns Mr. Donlevy, "I
have been sneering and leering."

That is not to say that he had been all
bad, for at Twentieth Century-Fox, he
played comedy and romantic leads in such
pictures as Human Cargo, We're Going To
Be Rich, and Battle of Broadway. What
Mr. Donlevy is lamenting is that when
people think of him it is with a feeling
akin to dyspepsia and as a villain with a
heart as black as the interior of a cow's
stomach, which is very black indeed. Mr.
Donlevy has been the "heavy" in A pic-
tures and the hero in B pictures and the
A pictures have won.

"I don't mind playing heavies zo much
any more," says Mr. Donlevy thoughtfully,
"if I can understand the motive behind
the heavy's actions. The only part I never
liked — the nastiest dog I ever played —
was in In Old Chicago. There just wasn't
any reason for his being so rotten."

■ A little scholarly reflection on Mr.
Donlevy's part reveals quite a lot in
the line of evidence. In Jesse James he was
merely the employee of the railroad com-
pany, doing his job. Even when he tossed
the bomb that blew Jesse's ma clean to
heaven he was performing his lawful
duty. It was the same way in Union Pacific
when he was Sid Campeau, paid to delay
the completion of the railroad. And in
Beau Geste it turns out that he wasn't the

villain at all, but the hero. He was just
such a lot tougher than we expect heroes
to be we didn't recognize him. But didn't
he save the fort? Wasn't he brave?

And if you want to know how Mr. Don-
levy achieved that ferocious Satanic leer
in Beau Geste here are Mr. Donlevy's
own words: "I've got blue eyes and if
there is one thing in this world I can't
stand it is bright sunlight. Well, most of
the scenes were shot on the open desert
and the only way I could see at all out
there was to squint. That squint made me
tougher than anything else I did."

For all the acclaim for his performances
as a villain, Mr. Donlevy's happy days as
a comedian return to sting him. The
family sock is getting plumper and all
that, but Mr. Donlevy would like to feel
once more the glow of being liked by
people.

S For his villainy Mr. Donlevy has paid
dearly. Ordinarily he winds up a
corpse. In Barbary Coast he was shot; in
In Old Chicago cows trampled him; he
was hanged in This Is My Affair; horse-
whipped and shot in Union Pacific in
Mary Burns, Fugitive and Jesse James
he was plugged again; in Beau Geste he
was bayoneted to death. A movie villain
expects to be done away with in the name
of contented audiences, but Mr. Donlevy
has shed his own red blood and at other
times confronted his Maker face to face.
Villains do not rate the loving delicate
care afforded heroes. A villain gets no

double. In Beau Geste he had to be stab-
bed with a bayonet. "I wore a shield of
wood and tin across my chest so the
bayonet would stick realistically. Every
time we rehearsed the sticking I wondered
how it would feel actually getting stab-
bed. Well, I found out. The guy with
the bayonet missed the shield, went over
it and rammed the blade down through
my shoulder." The bayonet slid past
Mr. Donlevy's heart with two inches to
spare, but it laid him up in the hospital
for two weeks for repairs.

While making In Old Chicago Mr. Don-
levy tried leaping from a building into a
net designed to catch him, but Mr. Don-
levy's aim was off several feet and he
missed the net spectacularly. Missing was
something of a mistake for it damaged
his knee so badly it almost crippled him
for life. It is an unreliable joint to this
day and dislocates itself on small pretext.

Even as a hero he has suffered. In
Crack-Up somebody gave him a squirt of
fire-extinguisher fluid right in the eye and
nearly blinded him. He put in ten days
in a hospital with an infection he got
from a bottle cut received in Born Reck-
less. Another time somebody fouled an
air hose while Mr. Donlevy was strolling
fifteen feet under water in a diving suit
with the dreadful result that Mr. Donlevy
did not get any air and you know what
happens when you don't get any air. Mr.
Donlevy was pretty purple when they
dragged him out. That was in High
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H Mr. Donlevy's personal hobbies and
habits are mild. He does not hunt
because he can't stand seeing things die.
He plays handball and works out violently
at the Beverly Hills Athletic Club. To
keep lissom Mr. Donlevy runs five miles
a day before starting a picture. Mr. Don-
levy has shoulders so far across they might
have been snitched from a papa Hereford
and for this reason he is something of
an optical illusion. He looks short, but
he isn't, he's 5' 11"; weighs 190.

Mr. Donlevy has but one hobby but it
is a dinger. He hunts lost gold mines.
Nobody has straightened me out on just
how anybody can lose a thing as big as
a gold mine, but inasmuch as Mr. Donlevy
has found some, apparently some have
been lost. He found one in the Panamint
Mountains on the lip of Death Valley and
calls it Skeedo. Skeedo is 200 feet deep
and sports tunnels at a couple places and
each week disgorges about $80 worth of
gold. He has another mine in Antelope
Valley.

H Other than that, Casper Milquetoast
couldn't ask for a serener life than
Mr. Donlevy's. He resides in Westwood,
raises dachshunds and flowers and oc-
casionally composes verse. This is not
to imply that Mr. Donlevy is soft, for he
bulges with the most intimidating muscles
this side of a gorilla. What I am trying
to get over is that he is a long far cry
from Sergeant Markoff or Sid Campeau.
He does not drink tiger blood. He does
not wallop his wife. In fact the little
story of how Mr. Donlevy got his wife
shows how bashful and unwicked he is.

It goes back to 1935 when a young lady
named Majorie Lane was singing with
Phil Homans' orchestra at the Trocadero.
Mr. Donlevy saw her there, and, for a
long time, wished he could meet her, for
she was an extremely nice dish. Mr.
Donlevy is shy and for many evenings
just came and looked and wished. Finally
on New Year's Eve Mr. Donlevy ap-
peared in a dinner coat, took his usual
table and as the wild wet evening gurgled
away he roused the courage to ask Miss
Lane to join him in doing the town. She
agreed and Mr. Donlevy, who has a manly
antipathy to dress clothes, said he would
go home and get out of the strangle-hold
the boiled shirt had on him and into more
amiable clothes, while she finished out
her singing job. When Mr. Donlevy re-
turned Miss Lane was gone. She had
been swept away by a brunet named
Robert Taylor. But exactly one year later
at high noon, Dec. 31, Mr. Donlevy mar-
ried Miss Lane. It is probably the first
time in history that the villain swiped the
lady from the hero.

J3 So Mr. Donlevy is sitting pretty. He
is the best and blackest villain in
Hollywood. He is swamped with work and
has just signed a succulent contract with
Paramount and has been cast in the title
role of Down Went McGinty. At RKO he
has just finished Allegheny Frontier, and
Destry Rides Again at Universal. Mr.
Donlevy may never get to that special sec-
tion of heaven reserved for Mr. Gable and
Mr. Power, but he's well on the way to-
wards being an all-time terror.

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Lya's Lively Career

[Continued from page 13]

As she undulated down the corridor,
an elderly manufacturer and his wife
approached and asked respectfully for her
autograph, insisting that she was a film,
star whose name they had momentarily
mislaid. Lya protested, not too forcefully,
that she was nothing of the kind. But
she signed anyway.

That stroke of the pen turned out to
be the Magna Carta and Declaration of
Independence for Lya Lys.

On arrival in Paris she charged into
her mother's study and announced
that she was a changed woman. A reve-
lation had come to her on the Barcelona
express, she went on breathlessly. Her
true function in life, she declared, was
not to chase ambulances up and down the
boulevards of Paris as an attorney, but to
portray on the stage all the fascinating
women ever conceived by the world's great
playwrights.

Mme. Lys, an old-style Muscovite
mother with a touch of the Czarina about
her, issued a ukase to the effect that Lya
should take a nice sedative slug of warm.
milk, go to bed, and wake up in her right
mind.

In the light of later developments it
appears that that moment opened an un-
bridgeable gap between Lya and her
family. Feeling like the numberless
juvenile American Buffalo Bills who are
reprimanded for being late to dinner after
a hard day killing Indians at the play-
ground, she sulked in her boudoir and
determined to embark the next day on her
life of high-class international intrigue.

B From that moment forward the motion
picture studios of the French Republic
had an insistent potential actress on their
hands. Lya laid siege to them with such
determination that one producer — the
most important — offered her a job if she
would promise to shut up and let the
actors get some work done.

After primping and priming herself for a
month and spending most of her savings
on a merry-widow wardrobe, she received
a summons to the studio. So did 300 other
girls — extras in a mob scene at a trifling
number of depreciated francs per day.

But Lya worked her new-found wiles
on the director and bullied and chivvied
him into giving her a close-up with the
male star.

Once her face was exposed on deathless
gelatine, Lya snapped her fingers at the
producer and remarked with the exag-
gerated bravado of seventeen, "That for
you, you antediluvian monster. And this
for your inestimably no-good picture. I
could buy and sell a dozen studios like
this and never miss the money — or the
studios."

With this exit-line she went into
retirement for six months — on the
blacklist of all studios as obstreperous and
uncooperative. But eventually she got
a call from Jean DuVivier, the famous
director. "I caught a glimpse of you in
a close-up," he said. "Come over and let
me get a good look at you."

Lya showed up in her Madame X cos-
tume, fairly reeking with mystery,
exoticism and vague foreign accents.
DuVivier listened with amusement as
she spun him one of the phoniest bio-
graphies ever invented outside of a police
court.

DuVivier gave her a neat part, that of
a worldly-wise woman, in a film starring
Francis Lederer. With DuVivier, Lya's
roles increased in importance until she
was playing leads — in Spanish and
German pictures as well as French pro-
ductions. Her income enabled her to lease
an apartment with a built-in wall safe
capable of holding international secrets,
in case she ever stumbled over any.

■ In one of her Paris phases she fancied
herself as a diseuse-danseuse, in the
Mata Hari tradition, and spent huge
chunks of her income having special cos-
tumes designed and special musical back-
grounds arranged. At about the time her
mother was prepared to have her sum-
moned before a lunacy commission, she
was approached from another quarter by
a plausible gentleman who gave her a lot
of fine talk about going to Hollywood,
California, and growing up with a new
country.

This was Lya's dish. In five years she
played fifty leads, most of them for
M-G-M. Probably the busiest actress in
any major Hollywood studio, she was
completely unknown in America and un-
recognized in the film colony except by a
handful of co-workers. Seldom has ego
undergone such torture, but Lya reveled
in it because most of her roles were ad-
venturesses.

Suddenly, out of a clear sky, came
fulfillment of her adolescent dreams.
A foreign government summoned her!
Emissaries whispered that she could be
of inestimable service to a whole nation.
When all the mumbling and whispering
subsided, the proposal was this: the Nazi
government of Germany wanted her to
act in propaganda pictures.

Her reply, after due communion with
her conscience, was, "Nuts!" rendered in
pure Prussian.

The Hitler government still holds a
grudge against her, as it manifested by
confiscating her money and wardrobe
when she inadvertently passed over Ger-
man soil in her hurry to get back to Holly-
wood. And the wound to its pride wasn't
salved any when Lya played the feminine
lead in Confessions of a Nazi Spy.

Two forthcoming spy pictures will em-
ploy her talents not only as menace but
also as technical adviser: Underground,
with John Garfield, and a gay little nose-
gay of slaughter and sabotage called Uncle
Sam Awakens.

Perhaps she's a woman of destiny. Per-
haps the fates have set her down at this
moment in history to enact a heroic role
against a backdrop of war and terror. At
any rate, after ten years of dress rehearsal
offstage and on, she looks like an
adventuress.

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[Continued from page 15]

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PAUL RIEGER, 288 An Center Building, San Francisco

New England town meeting with Orson in
the role of First Selectman.

Here is an example of the way the
system works.

In the sequence which is currently agi-
tating the Mercury players, a situation
arises in which a gal has to be moved
from one spot to another. Welles sent
two of his portable adapters into a cell
to write the scene. In due time they came
out of their creative twilight sleep and
read the result aloud.

"Bridget walks four blocks," they began.

At this point Bellwether Welles tore a
clump out of his fawnish beard.

"Four blocks!" he thundered. "Do you
think we're made of money? If she walks
two blocks she's off our lot and over in
the DeMille studio next door, where it
costs $10,000 a week to say hello to the
gateman."

The Welles method of arriving at a
scenario, while never tested at the box
effice, may very well be as successful as
the Wellesian treatment of Shakespeare,
Bernard Shaw and that one-dimensional
phenomenon of horror, the radio mystery
serial. He has been a very successful
young man, indeed, on the stage and on
the air.

The mere fact that the Welles method
on the screen is original does not guaran-
tee that it is no good, although the set-side
odds in Hollywood are 5 to 9 that the Mer-
cury Theatre will be racing the Greyhound
bus back to New York come dog days.

The drugstore commentators of Vine
Street allege that Kid Welles is getting
too high a return in money, prestige and
authority for a few lucky publicity breaks.

The reverse side of the picture is equally
arresting. Here we are dealing with an
authentic ball of fire who came over the
horizon with a blinding flash and has been
leaping electrically from crag to crag for
three eventful years.

S3 Orson Welles was not assembled from
stock parts. Son of an inventor and a
concert pianist who lived, implausibly, in
Kenosha, Wisconsin, Orson was trudging
around Europe alone at the age of eleven.
At twelve he was directing a grade-school
production of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar.

While touring Ireland in a donkey cart
in his late teens, he paused at Dublin and,
after witnessing a performance by the
famous players of the Gate Theatre, went
backstage and introduced himself as a
star of the New York Theatre Guild, will-
ing to lend advice or, if urged, his talents.

The Irish, a hospitable race, fixed him
up with a job. He remained a year, top-
ping off his experience at the Gate with a
great performance at the equally cele-

brated Abbey Theatre, the first American
thus to be honored.

New York, when he assailed its theatri-
cal battlements, proved to be a tougher
oyster than Dublin. Managers made it
brutally plain that as far as they were
concerned he was just one more pedes-
trian clogging up Broadway.

Morocco, a place after which bookbind-
ings and night clubs are named, was the
next detour on Orson's cosmic course.
Here he paused long enough to edit Shake-
speare's plays into remarkably actable
texts called collectively The Mercury
Shakespeare. They had a large sale and
are still selling.

Chicago, which got into the Welles
itinerary by error, witnessed the lad's
meeting with Novelist-Playwright Thorn-
ton Wilder, who had heard of Orson's
Dublin adventures and equipped him with
a letter to Alexander Woollcott. Woollcott
forward-passed him to Katharine Cornell,
in whose company Orson found refuge
under the alias of "Marchbanks" in George
Bernard Shaw's play, Candida.

Chicago provided the boy skyrocket
with a bride as well as a handhold on
fame. On Christmas eve, 1934, he married
Virginia Nicolson, a society girl who had
been playing in a stock company at Wood-
stock, Illinois. Her career ran parallel
with his for five years. In all his sub-
sequent productions she served either as
a cast member or as assistant stage
manager.

In New York John Houseman, a grain
dealer who had smuggled himself into the
world of the theatre, cast young striver
Welles in the leading role of Panic, an
experimental play scheduled for a three-
night run in New York. Exciting in spots
though it was, Panic was no panic in the
theatre marts. But it served to braid the
artistic careers of Welles and Houseman
into a single durable thong.

Meanwhile radio had recognized in
Welles' voice an instrument of remark-
able range and resonance, and he was cast
on the March of Time programs in such
memorable roles as A Rabble Rouser, A
Voice from the Plains, Benito Mussolini,
and Second Policeman.

B While scambling about for a means of
expressing themselves in the drama,
Welles and Houseman encountered a
similarly questing group called the Fed-
eral Theatre Project. The two joined
forces with notable results.

The first production of the firm of
Welles, Houseman & U.S. was Macbeth
with the locale switched from Scotland
to Haiti and an all negro cast. In quick
succession. Horse Eats Hat and Doctor
Faustus followed that glowing success.

James Roosevelt is Hollywood's flying champion. In 1939 he flew a total of 87,000 miles
in America and Europe. In the first month of 1940 his plane trips carried him 10,370 miles.
"But, wait until I get my first United Artists picture completed," says filmland's youngest-
producer, "then I plan to fly on an average of 500 miles a day every day for about three
weeks on business." Roosevelt's first filmplay, The Bat, will enter production in April.

Shortly after, the Mercury Theatre, no
longer in need of the government's help-
ing hand, presented the plainclothes ver-
sion of Julius Caesar which Welles had
rewritten with his own shears and paste-
pot. Here he performed his first four-ply
job in the theatre and hit the jackpot in
all events, scoring heavily as Brutus.

Since then he has devoted his days,
which sometimes run to 72 hours, to radio
production, play production, creative
writing, and an eerie undertaking called
"Getting in the Movies."

His true impulse is toward direction, but
Hollywood recognizes as well as the next
guy that Welles has become a one-man
hippodrome, and has set out to exploit
him as such. Thus, to achieve a single
end, he has been forced to set out simul-
taneously in four directions, with some-
what confusing results.

Virginia Nicolson did not accompany
Orson to Hollywood. Her Westward jour-
ney ended at Reno, where she filed for a
divorce on the grounds of incompatability.

| When Welles arrived in Hollywood
with his tribe of immigrants, the old
settlers greeted him with frantic aloof-
ness, hoping he would plunge immediately
into a jungle of celluloid and strangle him-
self efficiently in a thicket of Eastman
panchromatic film.

His employers presented him with the
largest carte blanche ever turned out by
a studio, plus a disconcertingly grave sum
of money.

Forthwith the boy wonder of Broadway
turned his energies loose on his initial
production, Heart of Darkness. The liter-
ary lobes of his brain directed the prep-
aration of the screenplay, while the art
department began to design settings,
among which was "the world's largest
miniature."

His players, under studio contract for
five weeks, did not even see the business
end of a lens before their contracts ex-
pired. Welles was occupied with other
matters. RKO, it appeared had pro-
vided Mr. Welles with everything he
needed except a calendar and somebody
to enforce it.

Although his days were spent in
wonderous industry, the result of his
prodigious creation was nothing you could
set down in front of a camera. His players

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were laid off. Bored, they decided to
become stunt pilots, with the result that
dugouts threaten to become as popular in
Hollywood as they are in Helsinki.

The possibility became very real that
unless something drastic were done all
eighteen of them would degenerate into
aerial beachcombers bumming around the
cumulus clouds over Burbank. In their
landlocked moments they were marked
men around the boulevards, bars and
bowling alleys, distinguished from normal
folk by the beards they had grown, like
Welles, for Heart of Darkness.

| When it became apparent that Heart
of Darkness, the main event could not
get under way for months, Orson made a
snap decision to produce a picture as a
stop-gap, a spy-and-sabotage melodrama
called The Smiler With the Knife. It con-
tained a nifty role for him and enough
other good parts to satisfy the restless
Mercury folk.

When Welles took the Smiler project
into the front office (with a knife) he
spoke long and earnestly of its merits.
And as a clincher, he volunteered to pro-
vide his four-ply services without charge.
The studio heads proved their sportsman-
ship by accepting three-quarters of the
offer, insisting only that Orson retain a
percentage interest in the production
profits.

Those who have been predicting Orson's
imminent collapse are warned that he is
catching on the idea of picture-making.
In dictating the Smiler script he said, the
other day, "Pan over to a derailed loco-
motive."

"That costs $8,000," his budget adviser
warned.

"Pan over to a derailed handcar," Orson
amended.

Members of the Hollywood anvil chorus
should consider the fact that Welles is a
dead game guy; that he is himself an
expert kidder and can take all the ribbing
Hollywood can aim; that he has an infal-
lible taste for the nice things in life; that
he has beaten the daylights out of four
media of artistic expression and has plenty
of energy, inventiveness and inherited
money left. And, finally, that he has his
own gang with him.

The betting in this corner is that he
will not only continue to balance on that
limb but will live to use it as a shillelagh.

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Romero — Dancing
Itomeo

[Continued from page 21]

ognize your long suit. Just give them
time."

If the cinema satraps have been slow in
discovering that he can dance like an in-
spired dervish, not so the distaff side of
the film colony. A dancing date with Cesar
Romero has been the dream of every
Hollywood belle who has glimpsed the
Romero on a ballroom floor. His rhumba
is superb, according to those who know —
like Ann Sheridan, for instance.

"Jiminy! What a dancer!" exclaims the
Texas tornado, with awe.

That ex-villain Cesar Romero should
be a rhumba specialist par excellence is
not too surprising. The Romeros spring
from the Pearl of the Antilles as the poets
refer to Cuba. This same Cuba launched
the rhumba. Eeet ees, how you say, in thee
blawd.

These same Romeros were members of
the Cuban aristocracy. Romero pere was
a sugar baron. The Cuban Dun and
Bradstreet rated him as one of the four
wealthiest men in the country. Life was
beautiful and idyllic.

Came that dark day in American busi-
ness history, when the sugar market to-
boganned and fortunes were wiped out.
Among the victims was the house of
Romero.

Little Cesar was over in the United
States, having himself a gay time at Riv-
erdale Country School on the Hudson
when the market got frisky. Although
the Romeros quit paying income taxes, to
speak of, there were enough nickels and
dimes to see their scion through school.
He was eighteen when he bade good-bye
to sweet learning and took his first squint
at the business world that had done wrong
by his father. His first close-up was of
the National City Bank, "a very lordly
institution, indeed," he recalls.

His father arranged for him to join
N.C.B.'s staff, but if you think for a second
he was given a junior executive's post or
even a desk job you are trying to sell
sling shots to the French general staff.

"Anyway I remember my first job, it
still looks the same. I was a messenger
boy, chasing around the whole city. I
didn't even have a bike. I wore calluses
on my feet working for that counting
house."

How he loved to see that evening sun
go down!

Came the night and came excitement
and glamour and a dash of romance. Before
the sugar market soured, the erstwhile
princeling of finance had plunged into
New York's social life. Partly because of
his good looks plus his wonderful man-
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then he was a marvelous dancer, the cafe
crowd forgave him his relative poverty
and showered him with invitations to
soirees, balls and coming-out parties. In
fact, it got to the point where no fete was
official unless Cesar was on hand.

This double life, running his feet off
during the days and dancing with dreamy

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debutantes all night long began to get him
down. He began to imagine that the
bank's vice-presidents were clocking him
and finding him slower than a tortoise.

"One of these phases of my life, I de-
cided in a hurry, had to go. I began to
brood about it," he tells you with a mock
frown today.

What put the thing on ice was this kind
of reasoning: as a runner for the money
changers he was just average. As a
dancer, if one could trust the debbies, he
was definitely super. He resigned with-
out any formalities from the National City
Bank.

He decided to become a professional.
After a look around, he found himself a
partner. She was the socially-prominent
Lisbeth Higgins of the India Ink Hig-
ginses. In a trice they had waltzed them-
selves right into a Broadway production
called Lady, Do. The lady did— but only
for two weeks. Then they were out of a
job.

But this was only the first jolt — a mere
trifle.

Those in-between years, while he waited
for his destiny to catch up with him, are
funnier in retrospect (especially to non-
combatants) than they were at the time
to our hero.

Humoring his soulless landlord, finding
enough steaks to satisfy a dancer's appe-
tite, and keeping his wardrobe intact was
a problem that needed an Einstein for the
figuring.

| The lowest point of the Romero for-
tunes came when he and a posse of his
cronies inhabited a doubtful hotel on West
44th Street. They lived like the lads in
Room Service, chiefly on the wing. At
lunch they pooled their capital and gener-
ally found the total just right for no more
than a wonderful green salad. One of the
boys was John O'Hara who later blos-
somed into a novelist of parts.

Such a mad assortment of buffeted (but
unbowed) laddies you never dreamed of.
Cesar's roommate refused to be stymied
by a momentary lull in luck. He was
always thinking up ways to crash parties
and so take their minds off their troubles.
Once, at this worthy's suggestion, the
twain decided to storm a very ultra party
at one of the town's most chic hotels.

"Just follow me!" Romero's pal invited.
Cesar did.

The road to romance, music and, of
course, choice hors d'oeuvres led up a
lire escape. They had just crawled through
the window when up sauntered Mein
Host, none other than Cholly Knicker-
bocker who was sort of giving the ball
and had at least a general idea of who
was expected at the front door.

"We'll go quietly," Romero said with a
shrug.

Cholly Knickerbocker roared like sixty.
They were so woebegone, these two in
their proper toppers and tails out there
on the fire escape. Cholly insisted that
they stay. He even found them some at-
tractive partners. And Romero's, wonder
of wonders, was a slick dancer.

It seemed at last that the slings and

Thrilling Moments

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arrows of a relentless Fate were petering
out.

"Maybe my Evil Genii just got tired,"
Cesar philosophizes today.

Anyway, by the time the dandelions
bloomed he was teamed up with a daz-
zling, dancing dryad named Nitza Vernille
over at the Montmartre Club. For money,
of course.

!
| One night a seemingly bored, dour-
looking gentleman sitting at a table
disconsolately drinking a tall glass of milk,
watched Cesar make his entrance and
muttered to his wife: "The very man I
need — I hope. Wonder who he is."

As it happened, the intrigued gentleman
with the weary look was none other than
Producer Brock Pemberton. A few days
later, Cesar was seated in Mr. P.'s office,
doing his best to retain his debonair
spirits in the face of the gloomy impre-
sario who glowered at him across his desk.

"Ever acted before?"

"No, I haven't. But I'd like to. You
see . . ."

"It doesn't matter," interposed Mr. Pem-
berton. "You've got what I want — a suave
Latin appearance and a faculty for speak-
ing good English. I think you'll make a
competent rake."

Which is how Cesar Romero came to
make his debut on the stage in the star
part of Strictly Dishonorable, wherein he
exercised his Latin charm to fascinate the
trusting Southern gal who was the love
interest in the proceedings. He did all
this on the road, in the role which Tullio
Carminati had created on Broadway. The
Southern gal was played by none other
than a Richmond serenade called Margaret
Sullavan.

After being the strictly dishonorable
Count Ruvo for a profitable period, he
became the chauffeur in Dinner at Eight,
and he became so rich from his acting that
he actually saved up six hundred berries
in virtually no time at all — a mere six

months. He even sent home some of his
weekly pay check, to demonstrate the
Romero solidarity.

H Without warning, just as suddenly as
it had come, his good fortune de-
parted. There was every indication now
that the years of the locust were in the
offing. He had taken to reading the
pessimistic philosophers when a telegram
came from M-G-M. Was Mr. Romero
interested in annexing a part in The Thin
Man? Was he? When did the next train
leave for the coast? And, more import-
ant, where was the fare? The impasse
was bridged by a trusting chum over in
Jersey who lent him $150 for the great
trek west.

How Cesar skipped from parts of dark
villainy at M-G-M to darker deviltries at
Universal, on to murky menacing at Para-
mount, and finally to the dancing phase
with Twentieth Century-Fox is old hat.

What brought him under Darryl Zan-
uck's banners was his work in Wee Willie
Winkie. After that performance, it was
decided that he was a possible successor
to Valentino, a Latin tidal wave of amour.
But Cesar failed to respond to treatment.
He just couldn't focus a smouldering stare
at a heroine swooning with great expecta-
tions and purr, "I lawf you — weeth all my
heart." He had too keen a sense of humor.

Dismayed, somewhat, the studio first
converted him into an elegant heel, a
villain without a conscience who toted
shooting irons and sported not only a
downright mania for homicide but an
Oxford accent, too.

With the wonderful reception given
their valuable property in his role of a
dancer, the way was paved for a final
metamorphosis. Henceforth, Mr. Romero
will carry on as a whimsical leading man
who devotes his talents to snaring the
girl, not scaring the daylights out of her.
But with wit and comedy. Not to men-
tion tangos and rhumbas and even
sambas.

Everything happens to Melvyn Douglas in Columbia's film, Too Many Husbands.
Here he recovers from a shaking blow aided by Harry Davenport and Jean Arthur

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How To Be an Easter
Egg

[Continued from page 23]

when you feel a binge coming on. Red is
suggested for the jealous mood; green
when you feel a touch of the dastard in
your heart; yellow when you're chipper;
blue when the world looks sour; purpl2
when a mother-in-law is due; dubonnct
when you're set for a quiet evening at
home; ashes of roses when the outlook is
pensive; and spotless white when the
world's your oyster.

"Black has its place in my scheme," he
went on. "I advise it for breakfast wear,
since the breakfast hour is a horrible one
at best. Shell pink, I think, does a lot for
you when you are christening your
children. And for the ballet, nothing can
approach the oomph lift of silver lame!
Personally, I favor it made up in a Prince
Albert model; you can use so much more
of it!"

Comes the revolution and the ungainly
and uncomfortable lines of men's fashions
will be changed too, Mischa vowed. There
will be no more of this carrying two
pounds of padding on each shoulder in
emulation of football giants. Stiff collars
designed to choke and chafe will be out-
lawed entirely. The 18-pocket-in-a-suit
routine, which turns a man into a gibber-
ing beast every time he tries to find a
theatre ticket or a parking check, will be
a thing of the past. Ditto for tight fitting
pants which must be pressed every time
they get comfortable, matching vests
which never can be found, and coats which
look like the devil when they are not
buttoned and feel like the devil when
they are. Amen, brother!

As a matter of fact, Mischa already has
done some advance work on the cam-
paign. All his trousers have but two
pockets instead of the conventional five.
His tailor has ten fits every time he whips
up a new Auer suit, and mutters naughty
things behind the Auer back; but, by the
great hornspoon, he leaves off the watch
and two back pockets!

"It was a great fight!" Mischa chortled,
"I wore him down with sheer logic. As I
pointed out, why should I have a watch
pocket when I wear a wrist watch? Why
should I have back pockets when I never
carry a wallet and use my breast pocket
handkerchief as a blower as well as a
show-er?"

■ With the dawning of the Auer Age
in men's fashions you'll see some nifty
innovations along the fabric line, Mischa
promised. And high time! Too long, he
said, have men been slaves to the deadly
monotony of wool which scratches, is too
hot, and stinks when it burns or gets wet;
and to linen which gets messy when you
take forty winks on a handy couch. Soon,
he hopes, you'll find them strutting in silk,
satin, velvet and brocaded glory as befits
their tender sensibilities. Soon, too, they'll
shatter the monopoly women have been
exercising in the use of fur and will boast
topcoats, sport jackets, and evening capes
in silver fox, beaver, mink, sable and

PALE CHEEKS
DON'T THRILL HEARTS!

. . . White faced women look old ...

Here . . . revealed for the first time Is one of Holly-
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more desirable, they give color — the glow
of real, live color to her cheeks.

ny woman, no matter how
young in body or mind, adds
unwanted years to her looks by
going about with white, lifeless
cheeks. Colorless cheeks are
repellent . . . they look sickly
. . . corpse-like . . . cold . . . no one
wants to touch them. And flat,
one-tone rouges do little bet-
ter. They look "fakey" . . .
painted and repellent, too.
They give you artificial, life-
less color . . . no radiance ... no
way to charm. But oh how dif-
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It's really alive ... it glows . . . its color looks
real, as if it came from within ... it radiates
vivacity... sweetness... so warm that no one,
just NO one, can ever resist its invitation!
Duo-tone rouge is the easiest in the world
to get, too. Simply ask for PRINCESS PAT
duo - tone rouge. All stores have it in all
shades. See them . . . one is sure to be YOUR
"shade of romance" . . . the shade that will
make YOU look younger . . . more really
exciting to hearts!

The eye of the
motion picture
camera is no
more critical
than the eyes of
men you w ish to
admire you. No
man craves to
touch a corpse^
like cheek.

Princess Pat

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ermine according to the good or bad news
of the balance on hand at the bank.

"Imagine the pure joy and lofty inspira-
tion a gent could get each day by trailing
to the shower in a bathrobe of Alice blue
velvet lined with virgin ermine!" he
glowed. "Imagine the infinite delight one
could achieve by sending his agent a
military cape made up in skunk!"

Da, I had to admit, he had something
there.

| What men's fashions today lack most
seriously, however, are the gay
touches known as the movie influence,
Mischa said. That is what he really covets
and that is the ultimate goal of the revolu-
tionary 24-Auer-Plan for the modern male
and his clothes.

"Women got their wimples from Robin
Hood and their snoods from The Old
Maid," he pointed out. "They got their
full-skirted evening dresses from the
Ginger Rogers dancing epics and their
Letty Lynton frocks from the Joan Craw-
ford picture of the same name. They got
their boas from The Blue Angel and their
bustles from Alexander Graham Bell.
They got their toga capes from Cafe
Metropole and their visor hats from Beau
Geste. Garbo was responsible for the pill-
box hat in The Painted Veil and the
basque bodice came from Little Women."

Why, then, shouldn't men filch a sar-
torial tip or two from the movies? he
asked. Turn-about always has been con-
sidered cricket. Even forgetting the
fashion slant on the thing, the practical
side of it commands respect, he insisted.

"Take pants, for example," he suggested
cheerily, "there is magnificent oppor-
tunity for movie influence in that most
essential of male garments. Since Gone
With the Wind currently is high fashion
in pictures, the first trouser trend might
be taken from the Gable pantaloons. A
distinct advantage would accrue from an
adaptation of the narrow band which
slipped under the instep and held the
trouser legs snugly over the ankles. In
the first place, it would eliminate the use
of garters, thus cutting down on ward-
robe expense. In the second place, one
could wear mismatched sox in perfect
confidence that the social faux pas would
go entirely undetected. Bing Crosby, for
one, would find this a tremendous boon.
And finally, it discourages the vulgar habit
of removing the shoes in public since the
pants, perforce, must come off first. Most
men, you will admit, would be reluctant
to go that far."

Elizabeth and Essex gave him another
idea along the pants line — the substitution
of tights for trousers.

"Think of the savings it would mean in
cleaning and pressing bills!" he enthused.
"All the well-groomed gentlemen would
have to do would be to rinse them out
lightly every night and hang them to dry
alongside of his wife's silk hose in the
bathroom. That's a cosy, home-y touch
in itself.

"Think of the advantages tights would
have on the golf course! Supposing your
ball lands in a tree? If you were wearing
a snappy form-fit number you could
shinny up the branches, retrieve the

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Who Is To BLAME?

Here is an amazing story — the complete, un-
varnished truth about a much-publicized
divorce as revealed by the man and woman
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wife's story side by side with that of her hus-
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the question, "Who Is To Blame?" Don't miss
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ON SALE AT ALL NEWSSTANDS 1 AC

CTHKE© lu

spheroid, and slide back to terra firm
quicker than scat and with considerable
grace and ease. Supposing you found
yourself in the rough? If you were wear-
ing the latest in knits you could blend
yourself with the landscape and thus get
away nicely with the furtive little kick
which would give your ball a much better
lie. And think how your opponent could
be thrown off his game if you happened
to have nobby knees or bow-legs! But
magnificently!"

Finally, Mischa said, it really would
mean something when someone spoke of
you as a "fine figure of a man."

"Too long have the weak brothers
among us been permitted to cloak their
inadequate shanks beneath a few miser-
able yards of worsted," he complained.
"Tights would put an end to that! Tights
would establish a man beyond any doubt
as Grade A, fair-to-middlin' or just plain
counterfeit."

Although he admits a few hidebound
males might consider it a bit on the flashy
side, Mischa said he had figured out the
perfect costume for hot weather wear,
particularly in non-airconditioned offices.
In a way it is his masterpiece because it
combines four separate and distinct movie
influences. First comes the pith helmet
(The Sun Never Sets) ; next the loose-
sleeved, open-throat silk blouse (Anthony
Adverse) ; after that a cotton loin cloth
(Tarzan) ; and finally, open-toed grass
sandals (Gunga Din) .

■ Male headgear especially needs the
revitalizing touch of the movie in-
fluence, Mischa continued. The way
things are now, a man's hat has about as
much individuality as a guinea pig in a
research laboratory. In proof, watch a
man pick up his hat in a restaurant or
any other public place. He has to look
in the band for his initials before he's sure
it belongs to him! If he breaks away
from the conventional block of felt with
a dented crown, he's courting trouble.
Berets brand him a sissy, caps make him
look silly, and silk hats always fall off
when he's getting out of a cab, completely

CROSSWORD PUZZLE
SOLUTION

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ruining whatever poise or dignity he may
have.

"I'd like to see something done with
turbans," he said. "Glamour boys could
copy the snazzy numbers Ty Power wore
in The Rains Came while less exalted
gents could get along with the simpler
models from Suez. Aside from providing
a handy cache for nimble shoplifters,
turbans would prove a godsend to those
rugged individualists who resent the
custom of removing hats in elevators or
tipping them to ladies on the street."

By far the greatest advantage turbans
offer, exclusive, of course, of the dazzling
fashion opportunities in color, materials
and jewels, is the abolition of the check-
ing menace and a resultant saving of some
$1000 per turban. Mathematics, Mischa
claims, prove it. To illustrate: the aver-
age man checks the average hat three
times a day to the tune of $.75. (Checking,
$.10; tip, $.15) Multiply 75 by 365 days
per year and you have $273.75. Multiply
that by 3 years (the average life of a hat)
and you get $821.25. Add the normal ex-
pectancy in the way of cleaning, blocking
and new ribbons and there you are — a
neat $1000. Since turbans never are re-
moved except at bedtime and in the bath,
all checking expenses automatically are
eliminated.

The postillion influence from Swiss
Family Robinson undoubtedly would
prove popular with fashion-conscious
gentlemen under 6 ft., Mischa continued,
since postillion bonnets create the illusion
of height. Gay plumes from Flash Gordon
would add excitement to the chapeaux
for gala occasions and also would prove
useful for dusting off the car after a rain.

He also saw great possibilities for an
adaptation of the iron topper from The
Tower of London, he added. Such a hat
never would require cleaning or blocking.
Its color could be changed to harmonize
with different outfits by the simple ex-
pedient of painting it with finger nail
polish. And finally, its value upon re-
turning home late on lodge night is too
clear to need further explanation.

| "Ah, yes," he sighed, "some day men
will cast off their haberdashery
shackles and be free! Some day their
fashions, too, will be influenced by the
movies! I can hear the radio announcer
describing the Easter parade of tomorrow.
There's Clark Gable in a Marie Antoinette
creation in champagne flat crepe with
sophisticated highlights of gold thread.
Here comes Errol Flynn in crushed rasp-
berry duvetyn piped in Capistrano blue;
with it he is wearing an Intermezzo tam
with a Baby Sandy safety pin in rhine-
stones and rubies. There's Bob Taylor in
a chic Algiers cardigan in the new golden
green with a daffodil blouse in pin-tucked
batiste. And here's everybody's favorite,
Mischa Auer, with his wife, Norma. She's
wearing a Gone With the Wind in teal
blue and he is the essence of high fashion
in a House of Seven Gables casual in
infra-red."

I said that I, for one, could hardly wait!
All this and heaven too when comes the
revolution?

"Da!" he said happily.

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Five humans wake to find
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Above, Albert Decke
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Frank Yaconelli arms him-
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*VM

A needle makes a heavy
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■JP~*

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Janice Logan gets up on a chair
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Thomas Cooley contrives a
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APR 12 1940

MAY, 1940

©C1B 4 5

1542 '

Hollywood

Vol. 29 No. 5

LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor
Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Cary Grant Sounds Off by Kate Johns 16

In Defense of Duels (Nona Massey) by Jessie Henderson 23

"When I Was Little—" (Priscilla Lane) by Emily Norris 25

Take a Trip to "Our Town" by Duncan Underhill 26

How To Fascinate a Guest (Ann Sheridan) by Kay Proctor 30

Hollywood Carroll (John Carroll) by E. J. Smithson 32

What Happens to Shirley's Money? by Sonia Lee 34

Troubadour From Texas (Gene Autry) by John R. Franchey 36

No Thanks! For the Memory (Bob Hope) by Joyce Lang 40

Belle of Hollywood (Ona Munson) by Elmer Sunfleld 48

PICTORIAL FEATURES

Tips for Leap Year Twosomes 28

Yippee! ("Buck" Benny) 66

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

The Show Goes On by The Editor 6

Movie Crossword , 14

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 18

Have Some Studio Food! by Betty. Crocker 46

Beauty After Seven by Ann Vernon 52

MOVIELAND TOUR: Westward Ho— to Hollywood! 12

Gary Cooper tames the wild
west for Samuel Goldwyn in
his new film, The Westerner

ilii^"<^M£*.

RALPH DAIGH, Mana3ing Editor

GORDON FAWCETT, Hollywood Manaser

CHARLES RHODES, Staff Photo3rapher

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc., 1100 West Broadway, Louisville, Ky. Printed in TT. S. A. Entered as second-class matter at the post
office at Louisville, Ky., under the act of March 3, 1879, with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 1940 by Fawcett Publications, Inc. Elliott Odell. Advertising Director.
General offices, Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Trademark registered in U. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and possessions; $1.00 in Canada;
foreign subscriptions $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich. Conn Single issues five
cents. Advertising forms close on the 18th of third month preceding date of issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence concerning subscrip-
tions to Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Advertising offices: New York, 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 360 N. Michigan Ave.; San Francisco, Simpson-Beilly, 1014 Russ Building;
Los Angeles, Simpson-Beilly, Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices, 1501 Broadway, New York City; Hollywood office, 8555 Sunset Blvd.. Hollywood. California.

AMERICAN PROJECT!

'* 0*n

1 ri : 1 *1 : MVMcM =«*XI

By THE EDITOR

| One of the most dramatic sights in
this country is Hollywood at night
from the air. As the plane begins to slide
down its long sloping air-trail from the top
of the San Jacinto mountains, you begin
to pick up the small, scattered towns in the
valley. The lights twinkle rather feebly
under the vast, cloudless sky, green at the
horizon, dusky behind its own stars
towards the zenith.

Then you pick up a bigger town and a
bigger. The lights spread and spread. The
creeping cars no longer are single units.
They crowd each other and form rivers of
light. The patterned squares fill in, and
climb up the black, furry sides of the hills.
The plane slides down, gliding lower and
lower until it crosses one last range of
black hills. Then the lights of the whole
vast city are beneath you. On every side,
as far as you can see . . . four hundred
square miles of it . . . sparkles Los An-
geles, like an incredible carpet of spilled
and glittering Christmas tree decora-
tions.

Crimson and pink, silver, green and shin-
ing blue, hot cerise, shining white and
golden, the town twinkles under the vel-
vety tropic sky. Mile after mile, as far as
you can see, the sprawling city winks a
welcome. I wished, at that moment, that
everyone of you who read this magazine
might be seeing it with me, might be think-
ing, with me, "It just isn't possible that
New York is only sixteen hours away,
that I left it yesterday covered with
snow."

9 Huge, metropolitan New York be-
haves in some ways, like a darling
little village. Last year, when they planted
the forty foot elm trees in front of Radio
City, hundreds of people went uptown to
watch the ceremonies. It was the same
spirit exactly that brings a whole village to
the depot to watch the one train of the day
come in.

Hollywood, in some ways, is more
sophisticated ... or maybe just more ab-

All of his life, Captain Wilfred Hamil-
ton Fawcett was a vital part of the big-
gest shows the world was staging.

As a very young man, he fought in the
Philippines. He was a captain in the
World War. He hunted big game in
Africa, vicious Kodiak bear in Alaska,
toured the whole world watching the
brilliant show that is the twentieth cen-
tury. From every walk of life came his
friends . . . tough ex-soldiers, brilliant
writers, fighters, racing drivers, cartoon-
ists, singers and movie stars by the hun-
dreds sought his company, enjoyed his
hospitality. As a young man he was a
reporter on the Minneapolis Tribune, and
he never lost the newspaperman's ability
to estimate and act quickly, never lost
the newspaperman's delight in the bizarre
happenings that make headlines, in the
energetic people who make news.

Three years ago in Hollywood, he
chose the name of this department him-
self. "That is the best title in the world,"
he said. "And we are in on the biggest
show."

He was not referring to his huge string
of magazines, or to Hollywood, itself. He
was talking about the times in which we
are living, the decades to which he added
so much color.

Now that he is gone, his own "show,"
which is one of the three largest magazine
publishing businesses in the world, goes
on, while thousands of his employees and
business associates, millions of his read-
ers, join in tribute to the spirit that made
him a great man — the spirit that goes on
with the show he loved . . . the big
stage of the world which gives its most
brilliant spotlights to such men as he.

Below, Charles Boyer defends his gay
costume for All This, and Heaven Too
lo Llewellyn Miller, Editor of this maga-
zine, during her visit to Warners Studio
in Hollywood. Bight, Sonya Levien, hos-
tess, at her big reception for Mine.
Frances Perkins, Secretary of Labor,
center, with HOLLYWOOD'S editor

sent-minded. It is so accustomed to ex-
traordinary happenings, to bizarre people
and strange events that it just doesn't
notice a little thing like the removal of
its Central Library from a prominent cor-
ner of Hollywood Boulevard. On the cor-
ner of Ivar, where the library has been for
years, was a gaping hole, a high board
fence.

"Where," said I, mildly curious on my
first trip up the Boulevard, "is the library?
Whatever have they done with it since I
was here last?"

Everyone I asked gave a bewildered
double-take, and said, "That's right. It
isn't there any more. What do you sup-
pose they've done with it?"

It became a sort of game, and it took
three days to find out that all they had
done to the library was to saw it in two
parts (quite a job in itself. It is a big
library), put it on rollers, truck it three
blocks away and there set it up in a new
landscaping, where it looks quite perma-
nent and happy.

That is Hollywood for you . . . the town
where the unusual is so commonplace that
no one pays any attention, but where the
commonplace kindliness and emotions are
so usual that the whole town will turn
out for a benefit or a barbecue; where the
wonderful climate, the wonderful sun is
so carelessly accepted as "usual" that the
whole town resents even a light sprinkle
of rain and stays indoors until it is
over.

| Laurence Olivier was having a ter-
rible time with his very first day of
work on Pride and Prejudice when we
walked on the set. They were shooting
the ballroom scene, and he had one really
rather simple bit of dialogue to do. But
they shot it over and over and over. All
he had to do was to lean in a doorway,
looking glumly at the waltzing couples,
glower at a man who asked him why he
was not dancing, and say, forlornly, "Why
should I? Your sister is the only one I

Fawcett Photos by Charles Rhodes

Dr. Cyclops injects his new radium for-
mula . . . shrinking victims to pygmy size!

A beautiful young woman shrunk to min-
iature size . . . yet breathing defiance!

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A normal-sized cat becomes a huge rav-
ening monster to the helpless victims!

Angered by their resistance, Dr. Cyclops
attacks the little people with a shovel!

Dr. Cyclops' victims, maddened at the results of
their size reduction, attack the gigantic doctor!

A Paramount Picture with Albert Dekker • Janice Logan • Thomas Coley • Charles Halton
Victor Kilian • Frank Yaconelli * Directed by Ernest Schoedsack -Original Screen Play by Tom Kilpatrick

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., accepting the
special memorial award honoring his
late father, founder and first president
of the Motion Picture Academy of Arts
and Sciences from Walter Wanger, cur-
rent president, at the Academy's banquet

Vivien Leigh, who won the actress' award
in her first Hollywood part, Scarlett in
Gone With the Wind, with her fiance,
Laurence Olivier, both looking very
happy at the great honor, the greatest
that Hollywood can give to an actress

Fazucett Photos by Charles Rhodes

Mickey Rooney presents a special award
and an admiring kiss to Judy Garland
who was honored by popular vote among
fellow players as "the outstanding ju-
venile of the year" for her acting and also
her singing in her M-G-M productions

want to dance with, and she is very much
occupied."

Olivier did his leaning in the doorway
with a fine, discouraged air. He looked at
the dancers with a convincing distaste. He
glowered very well, indeed. But the min-
ute he began to speak, his mouth began
to curl at the corners. His eyes began to
dance, and, by the time he had finished
his sulky speech, his face was all one
bright smile.

The director was patient and even a
little amused. Perhaps he had been talk-
ing with the director of Waterloo Bridge,
which was shooting on the next sound
stage. There much the same thing was
happening.

Vivien Leigh was having a terrible time
getting the proper distress into a scene at
a telephone. She was supposed to be hear-
ing bad news from her sweetheart, to
hang up frightened at his words. Her act-
ing was wonderful. Her voice was fine.
But her eyes had a happy twinkle in them
toward the end of each scene that made
the director grin, and ask for another take.

These are two very happy people. They
had had good news about their approach-
ing marriage and the whole studio was
sympathetic, delighted with them, de-
lighted for them. It was a charming side-
light on a great industry.

It is doubtful that you will be able to
credit that two very happy people made
the scenes which you will be seeing on the
screen before very long. After all, both
are unusually fine performers, and the
final takes were as glum, as discouraged,
as resentful and as frightened as the mood

of those particular scenes demanded. Re-
member, when you see them, because you
will be seeing real acting.

M Vivien Leigh has had another reason
to be happy since that day. She has
been given the highest honor that Holly-
wood has to bestow — the Academy of Mo-
tion Picture Arts and Sciences statuette
for the best acting achievement of the year
for her work as Scarlett in Gone With the
Wind. Eobert Donat won among the men
for his work in Goodbye, Mr. Chips.

Gone With the Wind stacked up the un-
precedented number of nine separate
awards at the academy banquet, and no
one was much surprised, because it al-
ready is acknowledged to be the greatest
box-office attraction ever filmed. In its
first three months, it has returned its vast
cost, and estimates now for its probable
gross range from 20 to 27 million.

Hattie McDaniel, first colored actress to
be so honored by the Academy, won the
award for the best supporting role for her
part of Mammy in the Wind. Victor
Fleming won for the direction of the same
picture. The late Sidney Howard's screen-
play for it won, and the film also drew top
awards for color, editing, art direction and
color design. David O. Selznick, the pro-
ducer, received the Irving Thalberg
Memorial Award for the production as a
whole.

We feel sort of sad that they did not
give one more award — a special statuette
to the exhibitor who had extra cushions
made for all his theatre chairs before he
started showing the picture, but maybe
they just didn't have time.

55 "The surprising part i3 that it is really
comfortable," said Alice Faye, run-
ning one expressive hand, sans nail polish,
down the side of her incredibly small
waist.

She was dressed in. one of the Lillian
Russell costumes, a blue and white affair
with a billowing skirt, a snug little basque
which quite obviously had a little corset
under it to nip in the waist.

"It makes you stand up straight," said
Miss Faye who always stands up straight,
anyway. "I'm going to keep it after the
picture is over."

"I'm going to need one for myself, if
this keeps up," said Leo Carrillo. "But not
to keep me standing up straight!"

Poor Carrillo had been eating spaghetti
ever since we stepped on the sound stage
. . . plateful after plateful, and all rather
cold.

Carrillo plays the part of Tony Pastor,
discoverer and great friend of the fabulous
Lillian. The scene we were watching was
the one where Tony, interrupted in the
middle of a quiet luncheon in the garden,
looks over the back fence and discovers
the young Lillian Russell pretending that
she is a great star.

Alice Faye's song went off beautifully
each time. Carrillo never failed to eat his
chilly spaghetti with great gusto, but for
some reason the scene did not quite suit
Director Irving Cummings. It was a mat-
ter of timing the last gulp of spaghetti,
the song, the applause, and the movement
of the huge camera boom that was riding
in from a long shot through a forest of
lamps and reflectors. Graciously, good-
naturedly, with perfect suavite, Director

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Fawcett Photo by Charles Rhodes
The editor of HOLLYWOOD Magazine with Errol Flynn at the big party to celebrate
the christening of The Sea Hmvk at Warner Brothers' Studio. The full sized sailing
ship was constructed on an indoor set and is complete with machinery to make it
pilch and roll realistically on its shallow pool of very convincing "ocean." A few
minutes later, Flynn shattered a bottle of champagne on the Sea Haivk's prow, but,
startled by flying glass and wine, he said, "I christen thee Sea . . . Ouch!" So the
gallant Ouch will be a fascinating feature of one of the biggest pictures of the year

Cummings asked for "One more take" and
Carrillo with equal graciousness, but more
physical effort swallowed one more
mouthful of chilly spaghetti for the cam-
era.

Cummings makes an ideal director for
this film because he was Lillian Russell's
juvenile leading man at one time and
remembers the details of the later part of
her career vividly. So fascinating were
the stories he told that we asked him if
he would not like to write them for Holly-
wood Magazine. You will find the story
in next month's issue.

| There was more red than you would
believe possible in one good-sized
theatre for the opening of The Man Who
Came to Dinner. Perhaps it was because
til Hollywood felt very gay at the pros-
pect of seeing Alexander Woollcott play
himself in the comedy by Moss Hart and
George S. Kaufmann. Certainly all of
Hollywood turned out for the show, and

the lobby between acts was like a meet-
ing of The Screen Actors' Guild. The stars
were notably prompt in arriving. No one
wanted a repetition of the reprimand ad-
ministered by Alfred Lunt and Lynne
Fontanne recently when those stars
stopped dead in the middle of the first act
to call out satirically across the footlights
to late comers. "Oh, hello! So glad you got
here!" and "Welcome! Do you want us to
repeat this scene?"

The theatre was entirely filled by the
time that Alexander Woollcott made his
first entrance. He confessed afterward
that had not the script called for a stately
entrance in a wheelchair, he never would
have been able to summon courage to
face that glittering crowd. The glittering
crowd gave him a dozen enthusiastic cur-
tain calls, however, for the smoothness of
his performance in the frightening job of
playing the quite unflattering portrait that
the authors had drawn of him.

^m^^j^ga^y^e^e^S

mm m

BRIAN JHEIIE

III

My Son,

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L. V, F

REIN AHERNE

as William Essex

LOUIS HAYWARD

with LARAINE DAY

HENRY HULL

JOSEPHINE HUTCHINSON

SOPHIE STEWART

The year's might-
iest novel brought
to flaming life
upon the screen
by a perfect cast!

BRUCE LESTER • Screenplay by Lenore Coffee • Directed by Charles Vidor • Released thru United Artists
From HOWARD SPRING'S best-selling novel — praised by more than a million readers

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Westward Ho—

Below, Joan Blondell who will
give a cocktail party with Dick
Powell for this year's Tourists

Above, Paramount Studios,
which Movieland Tourists
will see from the inside.

To Hollywood!

H The watchword for a perfect vacation
this year is — -Westward Ho!

Westward to Hollywood for two mag-
nificent weeks of travel, fun, the thrills of
an exciting tour of the town, and a visit
to the home of two famous stars!

The 1940 Fawcett Movieland Tour makes
it possible for you to enjoy such a vaca-
tion at very modest cost. This year the
Tour leaves Chicago on July 14. The
trip West will take the Tourists through
some of America's most beautiful scenery
— the Ten Thousand Lakes region, the
Rocky Mountains, Puget Sound, Mt.
Shasta and many other scenic wonders.

The entire trip will be made in beauti-
fully appointed, air-conditioned cars and
Pullmans. There is no extra charge for
this added feature which assures your
comfort and relaxation all the way. On
July 22 the Movieland Tour will arrive
in Hollywood, to be greeted at the station
by a welcoming committee which will
include a famous film personality.

The Movieland Tourists will be taken to
special buses for a sight-seeing trip
through the movie colony. Guides will point
out the homes of the stars and other Holly-
wood highlights. Through special ar-
rangements made by Hollywood Mag-
azine with officials of Paramount Pictures,
the Tourists will be entertained at lunch
at the studio commissary, known as the
"International Cafe," and will be taken on
a guided tour through the Paramount
plant and sound stages. Tourists may be
fortunate enough to see a forthcoming
Paramount hit in Droduction.

Arrangements have been made for
Tourists to visit Treasure Island and the
Golden Gate Exposition, Lake Arrowhead
and other points of interest. During the
Hollywood portion of the trip, Tourists
will stay at the splendid Biltmore Hotel.

High point of the trip will come when
the Movieland Tourists spend an after-
noon as the personal guests of Joan Blon-
dell and Dick Powell on the estate of these
two popular Paramount stars. The Tour-
ists will be entertained at a lawn cocktail
party, and will have ample opportunity to
become acquainted with Joan and Dick.

Every major expense of the trip is
included in the $180 price — railroad fare,
meals, hotel, the tour of Hollywood, visit
to Paramount studio, the cocktail party
at the home of the Powells, and incidental
pleasure jaunts.

The return trip also includes breath-
taking scenery and the best railroad ac-
commodations.

Cut out the coupon on this page today.
Without any cost whatever, a booklet will
be sent you containing complete details
of the 1940 Fawcett Movieland Tour. Get
your copy of this booklet and prepare for
the most exciting vacation of your life!

HYD-I

USE THIS COUPON

MOVIELAND TOUR
Fawcett Publications, Inc.
360 North Michigan Ave.
Chicago, III.

Without obligation on my part, send
me your complete, illustrated booklet
describing the 1940 Movieland Tour.

Name

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ACROSS

1. Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind.

5. Rhett Butler in same film.

9. He had lead in They All Come Out.

1 1. Star of We Are Not Alone.

12. Pack Your Troubles.

14. Charlie McCarthy wears a bow .

15. Last reel.

16. Bonita's initials.

17. Jim Creighton in Bad Little Angel.

19. Comedienne in The Farmers Daughter
(poss.).

21. Buddy Ebsen's birthplace (abbr.).

22. The Look Down (sing.).

24. Dorothy Lamour's nickname.

25. Wives.

26. , Look and Love.

28. Star of Everything's on Ice.

29. Comic episode in a screenplay.

30. Larry Simms is one.

31. What Laurel and Hardy did in Flying Deuces.
34. Miss Bowers in A Child Is Born.

37. Animal such as Big Boy in Untamed.

38. His last name is Maynard.

40. Whose role is that of Mrs. Nick Charles in
Thin Man series.

42. Dr. Kildare in person.

43. She portrays Light in The Blue Bird.

45. Descriptive of films shown at previews.

46. Laraine Day's birthplace (abbr.).

47. Time Wife.

48. Theme of The Fighting 69th.

50. His last name is Jenks.

51. First .

52. Nickname of Mr. Pollard, comedian.
54. One of divisions of a screenplay.

5 5. Man Town.

DOWN

1. First name of Ida Lupino's husband.

2. Adventure Diamonds.

3. Granny Your Gun.

4. Madeleine Carroll's is blond.

5. What cowboys wear in holsters.

6. So Goodbye.

7. Boyd Irwin's initials.

S. He makes Charlie McCarthy talk. '

10. Principal role in a motion picture.

11. Dr. Christian.

13. Whose husband is Charles Boyer?

16. Heroes in .

18. "Socks" Martin in 6,000 Enemies.

20. It Could Happen to — — .

21. Sued Libel.

23. First name of Ann Sothern's husband.

25. The Hour.

27. Foot of Asta.

2S. Baby Dumpling's pet is one.

31. Measure of film (pi.).

32. The of the Pampas.

33. Roy Ruth directed He Harried His

Wife.

35. Lennie in Of Mice and Men.

36. Greer Garson has green ones.

37. St. Louis .

38. First name of Mr. Luke, Chinese actor.

39. A short subject on theatre programs.
41. Author of Gulliver's Travels.

43. All Women Secrets.

44. Mrs. Harper in Brother Rat end a Baby.
47. Stephen Foster in Swancc River.

49. Otto Schlemmer in No Place to Go.

51. Edward Saint.

53. Box office (abbr.).

(Solution on page 60]

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Gary Grant
Sounds Off

Cary Grant in energetic mood,
sounds off in a scene from his
newest film, My Favorite Wife

fl I will know better than to take issue
with Gary Grant again about the life
of a movie star being a choice bed of
roses. Doggoned if I didn't end up
defending his side of the argument and
it's no fun to find yourself eating your
own words. Particularly when you pre-
dipped them in a 10 per cent solution of
acrimony!

We got into the amiable argument quite
by accident. As usual, I led with my chin.
Apparently I never will learn when I'm
well off, or else I'm a born optimist. Cary,
the fiend, loved it! I can still see that
amused gleam in his eye and hear his
chuckles of delight at my confusion.

The two of us had been talking on the
set of My Favorite Wife at RKO where he
is making the smart new comedy with
Irene Dunne. They make a grand team
and this new picture should prove even

When a movie star starts to
ask questions of a reporter,
something is wrong'. Here is
the very interesting result

By KATE JOHNS

more popular than The Awful Truth in
which they scored such a great success.
In a rambly sort of way, entirely with-
out rancor or bitterness, Cary had been
discussing a phase of the motion picture
business which baffled him completely.
He couldn't understand why the public
takes such a personal interest in an actor
and insists upon knowing everything

about him in intimate detail. He couldn't see
why the public would not grant that acting
is just another business and permit it to be
conducted as such along dignified lines.

"There is nothing different or remarkable
about an actor," he maintained. "We're not
a 'group' or 'Hollywoodians' or anything else.
We're all of us of The People with the same
general background of parents, schooling,
and growing pains. It just happens we're
working in Hollywood. Any one of us could
be in any other business (and lots of us are as
a sideline) just as other people, now doing
something else, could be in this business
(and some day probably will) . Being a movie
star is no greater accomplishment than being
a good lawyer or a good doctor or a good
bricklayer."

If people were logical about it, the making
of movies would be treated as any other
normal business, he contended in a pleasant
way. When you buy a safety pin, for in-
stance, it doesn't occur to you to inquire into
the private life of the man who manufactured
it. Nobody cares if he sleeps in pink polka-
dots, craves kippered herring for breakfast
and dates a different dame every night in the
week. All you want to know is how good a
safety pin it is, and is it worth what it costs.
"Then why should the public feel differ-
ently about our business?" he puzzled. "We
make a product and offer it for sale, the
product of entertainment. What bearing can
it possibly have on the merit or enjoyment
of that product if the actor is married or
unmarried, in love with his wife or a cutie
down the street, divorced once or ten times?
Why should the public feel it has
the right to know or even want to
know in the case of the actor and
not of the safety pin manufacturer?
Sometimes, he said, he couldn't
help questioning the sincerity of the
public's "interest" in a star as it
commonly is reflected -in the mad
fight for autographs, and the ap-
parently insatiable thirst for inti-
mate knowledge of the star's every
thought and move.

"I wonder if the public actually
is interested in that star as a flesh
and blood person or if it isn't just
what it believes the star represents
— fame, glamour, excitement and so
on — that intrigues it because those
qualities may be lacking in its own
life," Cary pondered. "It seems to
me if the interest in the star as a person
was genuine, and not in what he repre-
sented, there would be no such thing as a
faded or forgotten star. The actor hasn't
changed as a person; only his status and
what he symbolizes is different.

Incidentally, there is another thing that
puzzles me. Why do editors and writers
ask actors to express opinions on subjects
they are not always qualified by study or
experience to discuss, subjects like love,
politics, religion and so on? Like the
shoemaker, an actor should stick to his
last, and leave it to Anthony Eden to talk
about world affairs, Oscar Levant to dis-
course on music, and Beatrice Fairfax to
give advice about how to win a man's
love or be the most popular girl at the
party.

"But to go back; let me chalk up three
or four flops [Continued on page 58]

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YELLOWSTONE

at LOWEST COST \}\ history

For the 1940 season, the standard tour
of Yellowstone National Park, via de
luxe hotels, has been reduced to $36 —
less than ever before! And the sight-
seeing Park tour in modern buses now
requires only 2V2 days. Yellowstone
may be included more conveniently
than ever on a trip to or from the
Pacific Coast. The Northern Pacific
serves Gardiner, Cody, Red Lodge and
Bozeman — Gallatin. Go in one gate-
way— out another, getting the most
for your travel dollar.

Going to the Golden Gate Exposition
in San Francisco in 1940? Don't miss
Yellowstone! Costs nothing to get all
the facts — just mail the coupon.

NORTHERN

PACIFIC

RAILWAY

E. E. NELSON

302 Northern Pacific Railway

St. Paul, Minn.

Please send literature and complete infor-
mation about the new Yellowstone Tour. I am
planning a trip by train to

NORTH COAST LIMITED

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

NORTHWEST PASSAGE — M-G-M

S3 We take so much for granted . . . food
from the ends of the earth is to be
had at the corner grocery, our mattresses
and woolly blankets and crisp sheets
would have been the envy of kings only a
few years ago. Automobile, telephone,
radio, wire keep us in constant touch with
all of the rest of the world. It is a salutary
thing, once in a while, to remember at
what high costs of courage and endurance
our ancestors tamed the wilderness that
was the new world two hundred years
ago.

Northwest Passage will do it for you,
and also will give you one of the most ex-
citing two hours you have had in a movie
theatre. Spencer Tracy plays the Indian
Scout, Major Rogers, who took his Rangers
through what was considered impassable
swamp, to burn out the village of Saint
Francis and so teach the marauding In-
dians that white settlers must not be tor-
tured, that British officers and men must
not be treated with the shocking savagery
that was making a nightmare of the
western frontier.

Once the picture gets past a rather slow
start, it becomes a wholly absorbing study
of a man who did the impossible over and
over again. Much of this is due to a vital
script, a fine cast of actors, but particu-
larly to the dominant, virile, heroic
character that Spencer Tracy builds as the
leader of the Rangers. Robert Young is
excellent as the young man who wanted
to paint Indians, but who found himself
pushing boats over mountains when the
French blockaded the river, found him-
self dodging ambushes, and staggering
without sleep, without rest on one of the
most fantastic raids that ever was con-
ceived. Walter Brennan heads the sup-
porting cast which is packed with vivid
talent.

Don't miss this one. It is a season of un-
usually fine pictures, and praise is apt to
wear a little thin because of the many
films which deserve high compliments. So
don't think that this department suddenly
has lost its discrimination, and likes every-
thing. Just don't miss it.

PINOCCHIO — Disney-RKO

fi Snow White was a wonderful techni-
cal achievement, considering that it
was the first feature-length cartoon, and
even those who complained of the jerky
woodenness of the prince and the puppet-
like gestures of Snow White, complained
in a tender and admiring spirit. Walt
Disney was among the first to criticize his
own wonderful work, and promptly took
a million or two extra pains to see that
Pinocchio was an immense technical im-
provement over Snow White. The result
is another film touched with sheer en-
chantment in the conception and the tell-
ing of the story and also above reproach
in its animation.

Pinocchio, you remember, was a wooden
puppet who was brought to life, and whose
struggles to become a real boy led him
into many adventures. Colorful enough,
certainly, are the temptations and the
characters that beset his path. First there
was "Honest John" Foulf ellow, cousin, un-
doubtedly, of the wolf who was almost
the undoing of The Three Little Pigs. He
has the same cunning, the same persis-
tence, the same disarmingly bland appeal
for the unsophisticated, and he lures the
innocent Pinocchio into a trap by promises
of fame and fortune in the glittering spot-
light of the theatre. How was Pinocchio
to know that Honest John was not a patron
of the arts and meant only to sell him into
the power of Stromboli, owner of a pup-
pet show?

It seems to us that the Fairy did only
right to rescue Pinocchio, and that he was
not to be blamed for a mistake in judg-
ment that more than one real human be-
ing we can think of has made. In fact,
we think that Pinocchio got pretty rough
treatment all around, but, since all ends
well, we certainly would hate to cut short
any of his tribulations, much as we suffer
in sympathy. Who could bear to forego
one foot of the wonderful scene where
Pinocchio tells one lie, and his nose grows
a foot, another lie and it sprouts twigs,
another and it bursts into such tempting
bloom that three little birds find it an
irresistible location for a residence? Who
could bear to cut out one minute of his
search at the bottom of the sea for his
father? Who could bear to lose a second
of that chase of chases when Monstro, the
whale, goes berserk and lashes half the
ocean into foam in determination to anni-
hilate the escaping raft?

And then there is so much of the
brighter things to comfort and lull the
concerned audience between Pinocchio's
horrifying trials. There is the enchanting
Figaro, a kitten who is all but human; the
voluptuous goldfish, Cleo; the cricket
who takes his job of being a conscience
seriously, and the wonderful Fairy, her-
self, who appears, as all proper fairies
should in a most convincing dazzle of pul-
sating light.

Though there are not so many song hits
in Pinocchio as in Snow White, it is far
more the real fairy tale, and Disney will
be hard-pressed to top himself in. his next
film. We are willing to wager that he will
though.

BLACK FRIDAY — Universal

5 Boris Karloff is in this one, so you
already have guessed that the plot is
concerned with no ordinary happenings.
Karloff plays a nice, respectable doctor in
a small town. His best friend (Stanley
Ridges) plays a mild scholarly professor
of literature. The professor suffers a fatal
brain injury in an accident caused by a
gangster whose back is broken. So Kar-
loff transplants the gangster's brain, fro~i

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his broken body, and keeps the professor
alive.

When the professor starts snapping at
his wife, Karloff suspects that the gang-
ster's brain is taking over. He takes the
unsuspecting professor to New York and
to the gangster's old haunts where he
makes his way unerringly to the gang-
ster's enemies and efficiently throttles
them. Ooooooh, my!

Stanley Ridges does a fine job of trans-
forming himself from the doddering, gentle
professor to the murderous outlaw ... a
thing accomplished by a couple of shud-
ders and the passing of trembling hands
over contorted face. Why and how his
hair changes from grey to black in these
swift moments is not explained, but only
a very petty and captious critic would
bother about a little detail like that.

MY SON, MY SON— United Artists

| The study in father-love which is one
of this season's best selling novels has
been brought to the screen with some
changes, but with its essentials preserved
and with a convincing cast.

Particularly telling is the performance
of young Scotty Beckett who plays the un-
reliable Oliver as a small boy. He imi-
tates Louis Hayward with startling fidelity.
Just as effective is Hayward's performance
as the brazen and ruthless Oliver in later
life. He gives that unpleasant character
the charm, the insincerity and the quality
of menace which is demanded without
making it seem incredible that his family
and friends love him and believe in him.

Brian Aherne plays the father who can
deny his beloved son nothing. Henry Hull
is the equally devoted parent whose son,
for no apparently better reason turns out
fine. Laraine Day and Bruce Lester play
his children and Sophie Stewart does an
engaging part as their Irish mother. Jose-
phine Hutchinson is seen as the severe,
serious, chapel-going mother. Madeleine
Carroll is the artist over whom father and
worthless son quarrel.

Handsomely produced, thoughtfully
acted, the show is somewhat different from
the usual love tale, and should be of par-
ticular interest to those who found the
book absorbing.

TOO MANY HUSBANDS — Columbia

9 Her first husband, Bill, was a worry
to Vicky because he was always going
away on trips to remote corners of the
world and leaving her alone. Eventually,
he was inconsiderate enough to get ship-
wrecked and drowned. Her second hus-
band, Henry, stayed in the same town,
but his mind was on business, and he
always was in conference. But Vicky did
not know what worry was, really, until
Bill telephoned joyously that he wasn't
drowned, after all, and was on his way
home to a glorious reunion.

The matter was complicated by the fact
that husbands one and two had been busi-
ness partners, that their wife loved both
devotedly, that she was entirely en-
chanted at getting more attention than
she ever had before, that she could not
choose between them.

Played for quite wild and very funny
farce which only once in a while becomes
unduly weighty, the show is productive
of bursts of loud laughter. Jean Arthur,
Melvyn Douglas and Fred MacMurray
clown happily all the way through with
assistance from Dorothy Peterson, Harry
Davenport and Melville Cooper.

THE HUMAN MONSTER — Monogram

H After five people are picked up from
the mud of the Thames, Inspector Holt
(Hugh Williams) of Scotland Yard starts
on the trail of Dr. Orloff (Bela Lugosi)
who has sold insurance policies to all of
them.

Dr. Orloff goes to the most impractical
extreme to conduct his murders, employ-
ing as aids a blind mute and a gentleman
who is a combination of the Hunchback
of Notre Dame, Gargantua and good old
Dracula in appearance. In spite of this
creature's startling appearance, he man-
ages to slip in and out of lodging houses
without anyone noticing that he has been
up to his strangling again.

The girl (Greta Gynt) is left alone
quite often so that people can attempt to
drown or strangle her, so there is quite
a bit of action, but the tale is a little too
far-fetched to guarantee nightmares.

LITTLE ORVIE — RKO

B A slow little film that will do nobody
any harm is this tale about a little
boy who wanted a dog and blackmailed
his family into giving him his heart's de-
sire. John Sheffield, a very talented
youngster, plays little Orvie who gets into
the usual Booth Tarkington troubles (re-
member Penrod?). Ernest Truex and
Dorothy Tree play his parents who, ac-
cording to well-known formula, do not
understand him any too well.

The most brilliant cocktail party of the
year was given by writers Sonya Levien
and Carl Hovey for Mme. Frances Per-
kins, Secretary of Labor, who was in Los
Angeles to attend the three day meeting
of the California Federation of Demo-
cratic Women's Study Clubs. The recep-
tion was given in one of the biggest
homes in Beverly Hills, that of Mrs.
Jane Cotton who had lent it for the oc-
casion, and traffic officers in the long
driveway were kept furiously busy with
the stream of cars that rolled up and
away for two hours.

No one, after hearing Mme. Perkins
answer the questions that were fired at
her, can ever doubt that women can be
successes in politics. Soft-voiced, well-
bred, unhurried, she met at least 500
people and had time for a word with
each.

Arthur Ungar of Variety, who has been
nominated for the Pulitzer Prize in the
journalistic division, was one of the few
newspaper men present. It was his stories
in Daily Variety that brought to the at-
tention of California labor some of the
present activities of William Bioff and
also enough of his past to take him out
of town. They were fearless stories, hit-
ting into high places, and the whole town
will be delighted if the award goes to
Ungar.

HaveYou tried

LINlf

AT GROCERS EVERYWHERE

An Ardent Horsewoman,

Nancy often rides along the
road which winds through
long-leaf pines, magnolias and
Spanish bayonets on the
picturesque Southern estate.

_ A

Miss Nancy Calhoun, charming
debutante daughter of Mrs. Andrew
Calhoun, smiles from the porch of
Tara Hall, which was restored for
the plantation scene at Atlanta's .
"Gone With the Wind" Ball.

ST.

In Hall of the spacious Calhoun
mansion, "Tryggvesson," on
lovely old Pace's Ferry Road,
Nancy and friends prepare
to leave for the premiere.

We interviewed Miss Calhoun . . .

QUESTION: So many Georgia girls have "peaches-and-cream"
complexions, Miss Calhoun. How do they do it? It's easy to
see you have the answer!

ANSWER: "Well, really, I'd say Pond's 2 Creams are the answer — at
least for me! Morning and evening I cleanse my skin carefully with
Pond's Cold Cream to make sure every trace of make-up is removed.
And before putting on fresh powder, I always spread on a light film
of Pond's Vanishing Cream."

QUESTION: Do these two Creams do anything else for your skin?

ANSWER: "Yes, much more. You see, besides cleansing, regular use
of the Cold Cream softens my skin and brings a warm glow, and
the Vanishing Cream helps protect it against weather — smooths
little roughnesses right away, too!"

We talked with Susan Medlock • • •

QUESTION: Isn't it a tough beauty assignment to hurry straight from
a newspaper office looking fresh enough to "cover'' a society party?

ANSWER: "No, because I always keep jars of the 2 Pond's Cream3
right in my desk — ready to freshen up my complexion in a jiffy.
Pond's Cold Cream is just perfect for a thorough, easy
cleansing. It leaves my skin feeling so sweet and clean — and soft!
Then, before make-up, I use Pond's Vanishing Cream."

QUESTION: Do you mean you get a quicker and better effect
with your make-up when you use both Pond's Creams?

ANSWER: "My, yes, and I'll tell you why: Pond's Cold Cream
cleanses and softens my skin. Pond's Vanishing Cream is a different
kind of cream — it's a non-greasy powder base that takes make-up
smoothly — keeps it mighty nice for hours."

Before the Premiere — Atlanta
was alive with parties — Susan
Medlock interviews guests on
"new" 1860 gowns at buffet
supper, while Mammy's serving
old Georgia punch — "sillibub."

In a Box at the Ball, our
reporter gets highlights for her
column — rushes back to her
office to meet the deadline with
comments on the festivities.

SCND FOR TRIAL BEAUTY KIT

POND'S, Dept. 6-CVE, Clinton, Conn.
Rush special tube of Pond's Cold Cream, enough
for 9 treatments, with generous samples of Pond's
Vanishing Cream, Pond's Liquefying Cream
(quicker-melling cleansing cream), and 5 differ-
ent shades of Pond's Face Powder. I enclose 10t
to cover postage and packing.

Name — —

Street

_Ciiv_

''■■'■■ ■

Duels

■ "Since I am here I do not find that
anybody has fought even one duel.
Imagine!" Ilona Massey waved her to-
mato sandwich in an arc of astonishment.
"You do not behave so romantic in Holly-
wood as we in Hungary. No."

Duel!! We kind of gaped at M-G-M's
singer-star. What was this? Sure, swords
are okay for Balalaika. When it comes to
everyday life, however —

"To take a girl out to dinner in Buda-
pest, for example," llona explained, "is for
a young man what is called a hazardous
occupation, not that he likes it very
much. He fights a duel with any other
man who smiles at her, particularly if she
smiles back. Yes, only for a smile! It gives
interest to an evening."

Awk!— Had there ever been a duel
jought over Ilona?

She nodded her fair head vigorously.

How aw-ful. Wasn't she worried, wasn't
she scared, wasn't —

"I liked it," she said with composure,
"it was romantic." Daintily she balanced a
tray on her lap, rolled those eyes heaven-
ward, and added: "We have serenades
also. In Hollywood are no serenades."

At the moment, duels and serenades
seemed far away. The setting just wasn't
right for them. Ilona had paused after the
theatre at her favorite spot, a drive-in
snack place a block from Hollywood
Boulevard, where cars parked and little
girls in red slacks rushed trays of this

Ilona Massey, Hungarian star, with
Joseph on the sands at
Santa Monica Beach

Ilona Massey is disappointed
that Hollywood has not pro-
duced even one duel for her

Hv JESSIE HENDERSON

and that to the car occupants. Ilona, driv-
ing her own sedan, was in slacks, herself.
They were golden brown suede with a
jacket of the same, a blouse as delicately
pink as her complexion, and a suede
"baby" cap that covered most of her glint-
ing blond hair and tied beneath her chin.
She had just been to see Balalaika for
the tenth time! To study her own work —
and because the swords and uniforms
made her homesick.

"Certainly I know Hollywood is the
world center of romance," Ilona acknowl-
edged, "but in Hungary . . . ! Romance,
there, is for each day, not alone for
pictures."

She crooked a finger at a girl in red

pants and said, "Miss!" in true American

fashion. Daughter of Hungarian peasants

and proud of it, she was a war refugee in

Holland as a child, and talked mostly

Dutch until her eighth year. To

Dutch, German and French she has

now added English. We also crooked

a finger and, like Ilona, ordered a

chaser of [Continued on page 43]

T .

snarling, vicious,
killer-breed . . . in the
eyes of the law! A
hurt and embittered
boy . . .to the girl who
loves him! With bite
and dynamite, this
drama blasts the truth
out of his heart!

"Tyrone Dorothy

POWER LAMOVR

. . . not since "Jesse James''
has he had such a role!

. . . revealing more of her
allure than ever before!

A 20th Century -Fox Picture
Darryl F. Zanuck In Charge of Production

J°hffi>lh

EDWARD ARNOLD . LLOYD NOLAN

CHARLEY GRAPEWIN . LIONEL ATWILL

Directed by Henry Hathaway
Associate Producer Harry Joe Brown • Screen P!ay by Philip Dunne
and Rowland Brown • Original Story by Samuel G. Engel and Hal Long

•

Dorothy Lamour sings: "This is the Beginning of the End" by Mack Gordon
and "Dancing for Nickels and Dimes" by Lionel Newman and Frank Loesser

"When I Was Little - -"

Childhood mistakes teach the
hardest lessons. Priseilla
Lane's adventures were not
so bad, but they were funny

■ "Then there was the
time," Priseilla Lane
said casually, "when I
broke into the house next
door . . ."

She and sister Leota, the
singer (a visitor to the
studio that noon) doubled
up over their salads at the
recollection. There was
something pretty ludicrous
at the moment about any
association of Pat with
house-breaking.

In a dirndl wool gown — black skirt
and beige, round-necked bodice — her
fair hair held back by an amber comb,
her direct blue eyes full of laughter,
she looked fresh and sweet and gentle.
Not at all the criminal type.

However, in the busy Warner com-
missary between takes of Three
Cheers for the Irish, the talk had
turned down a Memory Lane of rem-
iniscence, dotted by milestones of the
things Pat ought not to have done
but was glad she did — because they
taught her so much. And
during the mental trave-
logue from childhood
through early career days,
straight on to current Holly-
wood— up popped the catas-
trophe of the house next
door.

"Mistakes? I've made lots
of them," Pat admitted, "but j#

this was outstanding. The
people who lived next door
when I was a child had been
away for several weeks. I
got into their house through
a window and rearranged
all their things. The dishes were packed
in barrels, the linen was folded up in boxes.
That didn't stop me. I dug the china from
layers of excelsior, took out the linen and
silver, and set the dining table. I was
merely playing house in a big way. I was
too young to understand what an awful
thing I was doing, but doing it thoroughly
just the same.

"Of course the dining room looked
dusty. Their dust cloth wasn't so good
as my mother's, so I went home and got
hers to clean the table and chairs. In
fact, I made several trips back and forth,

r
f

By EMILY XOKIIIS

for a broom and so on, quite openly, but
nobody happened to see me.

"Except . . . the little girl who lived on
the other side of us."
Pat jabbed at her salad.
"She told her mother. For some reason,
instead of calling my mother, her mother
telephoned the Mayor! I heard a commo-
tion and looked out of the neighbors'
window to find the Mayor on our door-
step, telling the family all about it. What
made matters worse, those neighbors
intended to move to a place at some
distance. That was why they had so
carefully crated the things that I
so carefully uncrated."

She drew a rueful breath. You
could see how the town had been set
by the ears, the Mayor and every-
thing! A minor tragedy which, to
childhood, didn't seem so minor.

"So that's how I learned not to
break into people's houses," Pat said.
"Seriously, it did teach me the begin-
nings of respect for other people's posses-
sions. Before this, I'd never seen much
difference."

It didn't teach her tolerance, though, nor
forgiveness of enemies. She learned this —
of all sources — from a hoodlum with a
police record. But more of that later.

No, at the house-breaking age Pat wasn't
a believer in seeing an adversary's point
of view. The small playmate
who had blabbed and brought
the Mayor to the Lane door was
plainly an adversary of the
blackest dye. Prompted now
by Leota, Pat recalled how they
lured the tattler into their
clutches.

"She'd been making mud pies

in her yard — she was that type

— when we told her to come on

over; we wanted to show her

something. She came, like a

dope — Well, I don't know what

you'll think of me," Pat said,

divided between chortles and

conscience, "but we threw her own mud

pies at her. And what terrible things we

threatened if she told who threw them!

Do you know, she never did."

This grisly incident was only part of
the struggle of growing up, Pat explained.
It didn't have any good lesson attached.
But it might have had, if Mother'd heard
about it.

Well, then, broken of house-breaking —

and avenged with a mud pie — Pat after

that stayed home where she belonged, eh?

"Oh, no," Pat replied cheerily, "after

that I [Continued on page 56]

Martha Scott and Wil-
liam Holden play the boy
and girl whose lives bind
their families close together

A now foohniquo is hoing usod fo
foil fho sfory of ono small (own.
Iloro is so in of hing aliouf a piof uro
fhaf is oxpoofoil fo hooxoonfionnl

■ The narrator of the country fable of Our Town
is a seeing voice, a voice with a Yankee twang
and a pungent lilt. From time to time, as in the
very first scene of the picture the voices em-
bodied in a Mr. Morgan, a mystic figure discovered
on a misty hill at sunrise.

Mr. Morgan is a wise and worn New Englander,
a figure out of a folk tale, who knows the ways of
the hill people of deep New Hampshire, and
speaks of them with warmth and feeling in the
rich local idiom.

It is his function to tie together the annals
of the town and to lead a camera about its nooks

Summer in Our Town. The charming set, designed by William
Cameron Menzies, is the essence of all peaceful small-town life

2fi

HOLLYWOOD

and byways to tell a weird and touching
story of its kind and pitiable people.

As portrayed by the incalculably effort-
less actor, Frank Craven, Mr. Morgan is
somewhat less than a living, breathing
man, but more benign than a ghost. He
takes himself and his camera and the audi-
ence about the sprawling precincts of the
village, skipping ten years forward or back
as his wilful and rambling yarn requires.

From the hilltop where the dawn finds
him, Mr. Morgan strolls across a field,
climbs a fence with the effortless grace

of the farm-bred Yankee, drops his hat on a scare
crow's head, mounts a rise and looks below him on
the town of his fable.

"There it is," he muses, "our town. The name
of it is Grover's Corners, New Hampshire. The
date is May 7, 1901, along about dawn. Aya,
just about. Well, we'll just step along here and
I'll show you our town and how it lies, and
I'll tell you what happened here."

And Mr. Morgan, the ethereal and be-
nevolent gadabout, escorts us down the prim
Main Street, introducing us to the earliest-
rising inhabitants and pointing out landmarks.

Below, Thomas Mitchell as
the jovial Doc Cibbs, who
knows the town's secrets

Fay Bainter as Mrs. Gibbs and
Beulah Bondi as Mrs. Webb
whose children are to marry

Right, Frank Craven
acts the story-teller who
sees into the future

Winter in Our Town. Sol Lesser, the producer, showed the edi-
tor, who left New York in a blizzard, how to keep warm on a set

MAY, 1940

Grover's Corners, as revealed by the seeing voice
of Mr. Morgan, is the materialization of Thornton
Wilder's vivid description of a New England hamlet
as executed by William Cameron Menzies, art
director of Gone With the Wind. In the Broadway
version of Our Town, there were literally no stage
settings beyond a few atmospheric props designed
to suggest doorways, church pews and tombstones.

The movie audience having become accustomed
to more detail in its scenic backgrounds, will behold,
with the other-worldly Mr. Morgan on his tour of
the town, as striking and provocative and realistic
a series of settings as ever graced the cinema screen.

"Here," the solid white clapboard houses seem to
assert, "is the backbone of the nation. If you are
kindly disposed, come in and sit awhile. If you are
in trouble, we will help as much as we're able. But
if you're idle and evil, pass on, stranger. We'll
survive without you."

The "Seeing Voice" method of narration is one
of the cleverest dodges ever devised by a screen
author, who in this case is the same Thornton
Wilder who wrote the stage play. It permits the
utmost fluidity in the unfolding of the tale and
lends a disarming tone of informality. Wilder never
has to worry about [Continued on page 54]

Tips for Leap Year Twosomes

Leap Year is almost half over. Peggy
Moran and Bob Barns became a little
worried for fear that their friends
are missing oppor t unities. So they
took time ont from Alias the Deacon
to prepare this guide for twosomes

"Take my arm down the
steps," offers thoughtful Peggy

"Never let your date climb into a car
unassisted" is a rule, she remembers

Away they go. Bob advises a certain
trustful coyness about this time

There's nothing a girl likes
more than care. Peggy gives it

And just to prove that it's Leap
Year, Peggy gives orders for dinner

Bob tries for a dreamy look
and Peggy leads masterfully

How To
Fascinate a Guest

Ann Sheridan decided that it is the homebody who
is the best hostess. Here is what happened when she
tried to give Cesar Romero some good home cooking

By KAY PROCTOR

H I've always said that the Sheridan
girl had brains, for all she has the
best looking pair of gams in town.

I'll admit it took me a little while to see
what she was getting at that particular
night, and a little patient help on her
part to understand it after I saw it; but
then, I've always been taught the worth-
while things in life are those we have
to work to achieve. An uncle of mine
(Uncle Lilliput, I think it was) who was
hanged by the Boy Scouts for cheating at
mumblety-peg really felt the same way
about it, for all he came to an unhappy
end.

In a way you might say my enlighten-
ment about Miss Sheridan's extraordinary
sapience was begun that Wednesday night
not long ago when Charlie and I went out
to her new house in the valley for a
rhumba lesson and a Tequila Daisy.
Charlie is the other half of Rhodes and
Proctor, Novelties, Ltd. and we thought
the lesson, to say nothing of the Daisy,
might come in handy some time.

Ann was caroling "Be it ever so hum-
ble, there's no place like home" when she
greeted us at the door.

"A pretty little ditty," I remarked cheer-
fully. "Commendable sentiment and very
nicely sung. But why?"

"Guess!" she challenged.

"You're going to sing it in Torrid Zone,"
Charlie ventured.

"No," she admitted, "but it's an idea.
I'm surprised they haven't thought of it."
Torrid Zone, of course, is Ann's new
Warner Brothers picture in which she co-
stars with Jim Cagney and Pat O'Brien.
"I'm practising to be a little homebody,"
she admitted finally, smoothing the folds
of her blue velvet hostess gown over her
curvaceous charms.

"In that?" I demanded.

"Why not?" she said defensively. "Just
because you're a homebody, you don't
have to go around in rags. Do you?"

"Not if you owna little number like that,"
I admitted. "But why a homebody? Some-
body been needling the Oomph Market?"

"Welcome," cries Ann. Cesar
has no hint of his fate

Ann said, "No," but that after con-
siderable thinking about it she had figured
things out like this: oomph can make you
a movie star; it can get you orchids and
dates; it can put your face on gasoline
billboards, candy wrappers, mirrored
bathtubs, girdles and reducing salts; it can
do a lot for your bank account and your
fan mail; it can square traffic tags for over-
parking and get you ring-side tables when
the S. R. O. sign has been out for two
hours; it probably could squeeze you by
the portals of the sacrosanct Lamb's Club
in New York where females are as wel-

Some thing is wrong with this,
though Ann is busy as a bee

Cesar seems a bit uneasy over
Ann's dainty needlework

Good food is the surest way
to a man's heart, they all say

Photos bv Charles Rhndrs

HOLLYWOOD

The perfect hostess thinks
of her guest's health first

Men love to be made to feel
just a member of the family

Men like to think of women
as instinctive home makers

come as poison ivy in June. But that's
about all it can do for a girl.

Hardly worth mentioning, I agreed.

"You see," Ann went on earnestly, "I've
been reading a lot of books and magazines
lately, and in all of the books it's the
homebody who is the heroine. In all of
the films I've seen lately, it's the girl who
can cook who wins out. And all of the
magazines say that men like women to
be domestic and thoughtful for their com-
fort in the home. So I thought maybe
Cesar would rather help me make a cake
than go dancing.

Bachelors get lonely fur the
simple home-y things of life

There was a wicked twinkle in her eye,
but there was no chance to find out why
because the doorbell rang just then and
Cesar Romero was ushered into our happy
little group by Elizabeth, Ann's colored
maid. He looked very dashing in the
sideburns he had to grow for his latest
Cisco Kid picture.

Well-mannered young swain that he is,
Cesar had brought a beautiful box of
stately roses for his hostess, "Lovely!"
Ann said. "I will try a new arrangement
for them! Women who have a real feeling
for a lovely home paint pictures with

The fascinated guest walks out
on an evening he won't forget

MAY, 1940

flowers, you know. Unfortunately I
haven't time to attend regular classes in
Japanese Flower composition but I will
do the best I can in my humble little way.
Poetry in blossoms! A lovely thought,
isn't it?"

Startled (and I can't say that I blame
him), Cesar watched Ann take two roses
from the box, break off their magnificent
heads and throw away their magnificent
stems. The heads she studied with care
for a few intense moments and then
floated them in a shallow 16-inch platter.

"Something is not quite right," she
decided after a moment. Silently Cesar
agreed. Charlie took one look and poured
his Daisy back in the shaker. "I think it
needs a little 'Relaxation', perhaps?" she
added.

Out came one of the two roses and into
the waste basket. From a passe bouquet of
tired-looking snapdragons she took another
bloom. This she placed cosily against the
anchored rose. "Much better," she judged.
"A little green from the garden, please
Cesar. I think maybe a eucalyptus leaf
from that tree across the street."

"I'll have to get a ladder to reach it,"
Cesar protested mildly. Ann gave him a
hurt look. In twelve minutes he was back
with the leaf. Ann "arranged" it in the
bowl and lips pursed, studied it again.

"Mmmmmmm," she mused. "The leaf
seems to depress it, no? I'll have to build
up the 'Laughter' mood. A marigold, I
should think." Out came the last rose
and in went the marigold.

Cesar was fascinated and then some.
From where I sat it looked like complete
hypnosis. Ann had a rather odd look on
her face, too, a cross between a philo-
sophical acceptance of the unassailable
rectitude of the printed page and an honest
regret of the fate of the roses.

Looking back on the two hours that
followed the [Continued on page 50]

Hollywood Carroll

Ev«»ryon«» is singing lh<» praisos
of a roiiianli<- yonn» man who is
«lin' i'oi* stardom. So ln*r<« is an-
other carol about Joliu Carroll

!*>•"■

Sir

By E. J. SMITH SON

■ Come the revolution, folks, and you can
bet your last keg of gun-powder that
John Carroll, the tall -and -fairly handsome
young gent of the movies who is making such
a hit in M-G-M's Congo Maisie, will be right
in the middle of the fracas and having the
time of his life. Make no mistake about that!
We'd met John on the Maisie set during
its production, and, liking the looks
of the guy, we accepted his invita-
tion to "c'mon up and see me." Due
to a number of reasons you wouldn't
be interested in, we failed in keep-
ing our appointment until just the
other day and we learned, then, that
the "up" part of his invitation con-
tained less poetry, by a dozen iambic
pentameters, than it did truth.
John lives on top of Lookout
Mountain, just off Laurel Canyon in a
house, from where on a clear day, one
can see the serene Pacific and on a night
of fairly good visibility, the less tranquil
blaze of Hollywood.

We can't build character, much less
a house, but if we ever do try our cal-
loused hands at the latter we'll build a
domicile like John's. We think
he's got the right idea. At least
the house has the merit of being
different, which should count for
something. The great living room,
for instance, is on the upper
floor. Facing a full-length bay
window are twin pianos. The
bedrooms are on the ground floor
and for an excellent practical
reason.

"What good," he says, "is a
window with a view to a man
who is asleep?"

You can answer that one. We
couldn't.

Downstairs there is a kitchen
equipped [Continued on page 61]

John Carroll's first big part
under his new contract is with
Ann Sothern in Congo Maisie

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C D IIJ p Please send me your generous
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Name . , .

Address.
City

-State

(If you live in Canada, write Lady Esther, Toronto, OiU.i

*VViVVVi\WWWVWVVVWWV\A\W\WWWlWUVVVI VtWWWWWl'VWW \v\ uuu

Shirley Temple makes a for-
tune every year. What is
being done to safeguard
that money, and Shirley, her-
self, against the hazards
that menace the child stars?

y S © N I A LEE

■ On my desk are more than a hundred
letters asking questions about Shirley
Temple.

They range from inquiries about her
present and possible future wealth, to the
more searching and human questions about
her destiny as a woman.

What will happen to the miracle child of
this generation, say five, ten years from
now?

The letters ask: "How will Shirley escape
the fate of other wealthy girls?"

"Is she destined for unhappiness and dis-
illusionment in the motives of people by
reason of her wealth and her position?"

"Will fortune-hunters seek her out and
break her heart when she arrives at woman-
hood?"

"How is her future being protected?"

"Will she continue in pictures?"

"What provision is being made for her
education?"

"Will she have difficulty in making
emotional adjustments as she grows older?"

These are not questions of idle curiosity.
But they are the result of real interest,
tender anxiety and love for the world's most
remarkable child.

As such they deserve careful answers.

I asked Mrs. Gertrude Temple for the
answers. She gave them.

Gertrude Temple is a poised, twinkly-
eyed, exquisitely groomed person. She is
a woman of wonderful insight. She has
qualities as a mother and as a woman which
has earned Hollywood's awed respect. And
Hollywood is hard to awe.

In the adjoining room Shirley was taking
her French lesson. And fre-
quently, as Mrs, Temple and I
talked, she stopped to listen, cal-
culating the progress by the tempo
of her child's voice seeping
through the closed door,

■ As weadth is considered today,
Shirley Temple will never be
enormously rich. By the end of
the next five years, when she is
fifteen, she will have approxi-
mately a million dollars in her own
right.

This estimate is based on her
present Twentieth Century-Fox
contract which covers this five-
year period. Also on other com-
mercial contracts.

Adventures, fortune - hunters,
spongers — that fraternity which
considers a wealthy and beauti-
ful young girl fair prey — will
find slim pickings in Shirley's
vicinity because her parents have
planned [Continued on page 64]

"IMAGINE ME GIVING ADVICE
TO A MOVIE STAR!"

1. Whee! I Was thrilled when the stylish
dressmaker I work for told me to deliver
a gorgeous evening gown to my favorite
movie actress! But when I got to her
house and the French maid took the dress
into the inner room, I heard my Glamour
Girl blow up.

2. "No, HO, Send it back! I won't need it,"
she moaned. "This whole afternoon I've
been standing on the lot . . . now I'm too
chafed to go out!" . . . Say, was I on a
spot! Madame, the modiste, would be
furious if I brought back that dress.

3. So I flew into the room. "Wait," I cried.

"It must be you haven't heard about
Miracle Modess. It now has 'Moisture
Zoning' — a wonderful new feature that
acts to direct moisture inside the pad,
leaving edges dry and comfortable longer
than ever before!"

4. "I... have SOme ModeSS," stammered the
maid. And soon we were cutting a pad.
"Look," I said. "Here's why Modess is
softer, too! It's made of fluff 1 Not a bit
like layer-type napkins. And thanks to

Modess' moisture-resistant backing," I
pushed on, "Modess is safer, too!"

Ji. Well, my Glamour Girl was delighted! And

that night, as I stood outside the rope

and watched the "celebs" sail in to a
"first night" — there she was! Looking
gorgeous ! And handing her grand bouquet
of orchids to me! Glory, but I'm glad I
told her about Miracle Modess!

try it now! NEV/ MIRACLE MODESS with "MOISTURE ZONING"

Troubadour From Texas

He is a sensation in the small towns but the
big cities never have a chance to see his films

By JOHN R. FRANCDEY

Why stop at a white tie? A
white suit, daintily outlined in
black, for formal occasions,
seems to please Mrs. Autry

■ New York rejected him ten years ago
when he first arrived in the Big Town
from the cactus country, caparisoned in the
most outlandish Western get-up you ever
saw, totin' a guitar and a-hankerin' for a
radio sponsor.

Today, after he has built one of the largest
fan followings in the films, become Republic
Pictures' Number One investment, and
zoomed into the financial stratosphere with
an income way into six figures, New York

is the one spot on this globe that still blows
cold.

His name is Gene Autry, the Hell-for-
Leather Cowboy in C-sharp whose crooning
and guitar rhythms are known around the
world. But who would not get a second
glance from Greater New York's millions ex-
cept for his clothes, which grow more fanciful
each year.

Movie critics of the great Manhattan dail-
ies have never reviewed an Autry film. His
horse operas are not shown in any of the
downtown picture palaces. And if this isn't
enough of an indignity, moppets who see him
traipsin' around in his picturesque cowboy

outfit, looking something like a Lucius
Beebe of the brush country, regard him
in confusion and pronounce, fumblingly,
the dreadful greeting:

"Hi, Lone Ranger!"

Lone Ranger, indeed!

Gene Autry is a household world in
Trenton, Tokyo and Timbuctoo. Even in
war-torn Madrid the urchins know him
well and hail him as "Senor Zheen." Even
in restrained England, Gene Autry is
something of a White God in a Saddle.
Not only is he lionized by the city Cheap-
side, but even flossy Mayfalr treks to the
suburban music halls when Gene and
his guitar are to be seen. As for the little
princesses-royal, they let out a dignified
yippee at the first rumor that a new Autry
film is to be previewed at Buckingham
Palace. That's how the detached British
go for our Gene.

The Irish are even worse. You would
have thought that Gene was an off-shoot
from the old sod, or that maybe the late
and revered St. Patrick had returned to
life, judging from the way 750,000 cheer-
ing Gaels mobbed him in Dublin early last
August.

Not even Hitler has ever put the Indian
sign on a single scene from an Autry pic-
ture. The Germans see hjm just as he is,
a Romeo of the Range. But with rhythm!

The astonishing career of the yodeling
buckaroo began precisely 31 years ago on
a rambling rancho which claims Tioga,
Texas, as its postofnce.

Here, like the little Hiawatha, the young
Autry early sought communion with na-
ture. Outside his window was the purple
sage. Over the same purple sage roamed
the herd. And a herd means work — work
that is best handled from a saddle.

Long before he ever reached the Nick
Carter literature stage he had become a
top-flight wrangler for his father. Towns-
people still remember him as "Hell-on-a-
Mustang Autry." And those veterans who
helped Autry play valet to steers have
never forgiven him for chucking the cow-
boy life. They shake their heads in
bereavement over the lost soul, when any-
one mentions Gene and pictures.

How he happened to part company with
his father, his father's household and
Tioga, of which he is to this day inordi-
nately proud, is probably the story, old as
sin, about the faroff hills looking greener
than the local scenery. The plain truth
is that the purple sage began to pall on
him. He was 18 when he looked eastward,
liked the view and got restless.

"I just got a-hankering to see the
world," is how he puts it.

He didn't get terribly far that first trek.
He landed in Sapulpa, Oklahoma, where
he found a job as a telegraph operator.
All day long he murdered the Morse code
sending out messages.

And at night he roamed the streets of
the little town with time on his hands.
It was only natural that before long the
old restlessness began to plague him.
Sapulpa was nifty but not exactly excit-
ing. So as not to wind up talking to him-
self, he began singing to himself for
diversion.

Music, as the adage insists, has strange
charms. Before long Gene Autry was

How I turned my JjL ostrich

into

peacock !

Granny gave a party one day and I noticed
my little Betty hiding like an ostrich — -as if she
were ashamed to be seen. Later, the poor kid told
me that some of the youngsters had been joking
about tattle-tale gray — they said her dress had
it bad.

I was so upset, I wept. And

Granny was furious. "Why wash
with lazy soaps that leave dirt stuck
in the clothes?" she stormed. "To
get clothes really clean, just use-
Fels-Naptha — bar or chips!"

Well, I practically flew to the grocer's after Granny told me to switch to Fels-Naptha
Soap. And tattle-tale gray dropped right out of my life! My washes are a dream since
I put Fels-Naptha's richer, golden soap and gentle, dirt-loosening naptha on the job!
Every towel and sheet so breezy-sweet and bright! Every dress so snowy- white, it's
no wonder my little girl is the proudest little girl in town!

Banish "Tattle -Tale Gray" with
Fels-Naptha Soap— bar or chips

"Use the Fels-Naptha bar for bar-soap jobs. See how
it makes the greasiest, grimiest dirt let go- — without
hard rubbing. See if you don't find it the grandest
bar soap you've ever tried!"

"And If you use a washer ... try Fels-Naptha
Soap Chips. The only chips holding richer golden
soap and naptha! They move dirt faster because
they're HUSKIER— not puffed up with air like
flimsy, sneezy powders. And my, what rich, creamy
suds you get — they now hold a marvelous new
suds-builder."

COPR. 1840, PELS a CO.

B/U A/ EVER GOT #/S HAT OFF /

1 . "Don't take your hat off, William!" com-
mands Mrs. Todd. "The kitchen drain
is clogged — the sink's a mess — we're
eating out!"

3, Down the drain goes DrSno. It gets
down deep — digs out the clogging
grease and muck — clears the drain
thoroughly/

2. "That drain plugged again?" frowns
Bill. "This time, I know what to do! A
fellow at the office said 'Get Drano!' —
and I will!"

4. "No drain it going fo put tit out again!"

grins Bill. "Just use a teaspoonful of
Drano every night — to keep the drain
clean!"

P. S. After the dishes use a teaspoonful of
Drano to guard against clogged drains. Never
over 25 i at grocery, drug, hardware stores.

Drano

CLEANS CLOGGED DRAINS

USE DRANO DAILY

TO KEEP
DRAINS CLEAN

Copr. 1S40. The Draekett Co

sending away for a sax, right out of Sears,
Roebuck.

' "I fooled around with the thing for quite
a piece and then I gave it up," he explains
nowadays. "I put the sweetest sounds
you'd ever want into that sax but they
came out something terrible. So I went
back to the gee-tar."

Gene might still be in Sapulpa except
for a timely nudge from Fate. One quiet
evening, he was propped up in one of the
Frisco Railroad's most comfortable chairs,
going to town with "A Cowboy's Heaven,"
when a tanned stranger breezed in, and
asked if he could send a telegram,

"Sure #iing," said Autry, when he had
finished the chorus. And he handed him a
blank. While the man wrinkled his brow
and struggled with the message, Gene
plunked out a few more mournful chords
and carried on.

"Sorry to cut in like this, son, but will
you be sure and see that this goes off right
away — collect?"

Autry unwound himself to a perpen-
dicular.

"Just one other thing," the stranger
went on, his face a broad expanse of grin:
"You've got a mighty nice voice, a real
sweet voice. And you play even better

than you sing, Why don't you do some-
thing about it?"

Then he was off.

Autry laid down his guitar, picked up
the message. It was addressed to a famous
New York newspaper syndicate and ran
about 100 words. At the bottom was the
signature, Will Rogers.

You could have swatted Gene down
with a water lily.

The turning point in many careers is a
sign from on high. Gene Autry recognized
his with perfect ease. He packed his car-
pet bag and bid adieu to Sapulpa. With
Rogers' blessing illuminating his very soul,
he headed for the rainbow, New York.

Guitar, cowboy get-up and all, he
traipsed over to the offices of the people
who make the Victor records and de-
manded an audition. He got one. The plat-
ter barons heard the strange sounds that
rolled off the discs and were amused,
charmed, even. But not exactly wowed.
They sent him home for "more experi-
ence," another way of saying, "It would
be a big help to us if you got a following.''

The great rebuff came in mid-summer.
As fall broke over the cattle country,
Gene, somewhat chastened but fighting
mad, was already launched on his career.

He had hooked up with Station WKY for
a program originating at Tulsa and piped
over to Oklahoma City as well. He was
billed as "Oklahoma's Yodeling Cowboy."

What happened from then on defies im-
agination. He became an overnight hit. In
a land where a cowboy is as novel as a
Dodger fan in Brooklyn, he became a sen-
sation. So much so that his station was
showered with fan mail and requests for
photographs. No one was more astounded
than Autry.

So spectacular was the response that
NBC dispatched a man to take a squint at
the Autry person. He, too, was impressed
and proved it by whipping out a contract
which wafted Gene to Chicago, where he
was assigned the singing role in the Na-
tional Barn Dance program. When the
first 13 weeks were up, his contract was
renewed. This time, thanks to a bombard-
ment of ecstatic praise from the listeners,
he was shot up to the number one spot,
master of ceremonies.

A household word in the middle west,
he got the idea of making personal ap-
pearances with a troupe of his colleagues.
Here, too, was instant acclaim. The troupe
did repeats and rerepeats. The din grew
louder.

Chicago is nearer New York than is
Sapulpa, Oklahoma, in more ways than
one. Even as Autry, dazed but willing,
was basking in the sun of his sudden fame,
his bank account swelling by the clock, a
group of executives of Republic Pictures
was pondering the problem of new talent.

"Why not comb the airwaves?" spoke
up a cunning one.

"For instance?"

"For instance, Gene Autry."

No reply.

"We could put Autry in Westerns," the
cunning one went on. "And he could sing.
I think the kids would eat it up."

Inspired prophecy!

Autry's screen career was launched in
a film called In Old Sante Fe, The star
was Ken Maynard, but the man who
walked off with the picture was the cow-
boy who sang like a Texas mockingbird
and called himself Gene Autry.

The box-office returns made the officials
at Republic hysterical with joy. In a
hurry they placed the astounded Gene
under five-year contract, and rushed
preparations for a serial to be called Phan-
tom Empire,

Would history repeat itself, they won-
dered?

It outdid itself! The fabulous episodic
saga of a strange kingdom located beneath
a dude ranch owned by buckaroo Autry
and presided over by a beautiful but
cruel — at least cruelish — princess con-
firmed the miracle. Kids were transported
to Seventh Heaven. And mothers began
writing in to Republic protesting that
when Junior should have been concerned
over the fact that his long-division home-
work wasn't coming out just right he was
actually worried over how long Gene
Autry was going to stand that up-stage
treatment from that sappy princess before
he let her have one on the kisser.

Almost ten years have passed since
Will Rogers offered his momentous
advice. Hundreds of miles of song-and-

action film have been reeled off the pro-
jectors in the interim, and the Autry name
has become a magic word, not only in en-
tertainment but in commerce.

Kids the world over slip into Gene
Autry sweatshirts when they come home
from school. They fasten to their hips the
Gene Autry guns. (One million were sold
in less than a month!) If they have a
larger allowance, they sport Autry cow-
boy suits. And perhaps little sister
cuddles a Gene Autry doll. Then, more
than likely, after the supper dishes are
put away, older brother, or maybe Pop,
himself, puts on an Autry record.

Autry's songs run into the hundreds and
the disc sales are staggering. Possibly ten
million Autry records have gone into cir-
culation.

And what of Autry, himself?

Fame and fortune have left Gene pretty
much the same good-natured, pink-
cheeked, blue-eyed, quiet-talking lad who
once swooped down on the record people,
except perhaps, that his wardrobe is big-
ger and wilder than even before.

Even when he meets the press, or may-
be Mrs. Roosevelt, he's the singing cow-
boy. Sometimes, to be sure, the outfit is
"formal." This would be a nifty white-
flannel job piped with blue, trousers that
fit snug as a glove and a jacket cut high
and tight.

He is married to a former Oklahoman,
Ina Mae Spivey. He hates display, avoids
nightclubs. His pet hobby is collecting
fancy 10-gallon hats. Currently the num-
ber stands at 31. You can figure out the
investment by multiplying this figure by
$50. His boots and shoes are hand-made
and marvels of the fooler's art. His saddles
would make any leather-lover swoon with
delight. They cost fabulous sums, are
heavy with silver, and covered with in-
tricate designs.

No small part of this renown is due to
Champion, his incomparable horse. No
knight had a nobler steed. All true Autry
fans have a place in their hearts for Cham-
pion. Strands of hair from Champion's
tail have brought as high as $2.50 from
admirers. So definitely "big-noise" is
Champion that he has even done his part
on a radio program. He whinnied. Gene
Autry, on his part, stints Champion noth-
ing. He has built him a $50,000 trailer, air-
conditioned and equipped with fans,
showers and a 24-hour-a-day groom. The
trailer is large enough for Champion to
entertain house guests. It has accommo-
dations for two playmates.

■ What is he going to do about haughty
New York? Nothing, for the time be-
ing, but give his level best to his art, con-
tinue to turn out records and bank the
royalties that pour in on him. He isn't
worrying, but he is mighty interested to
see what happens when his new picture
Shooting High comes to town, and his
name, co-starred with Jane Withers, goes
up in lights on Broadway.

"I shore am going to give Shooting High
all I got," Mr. Autry told this sympathizer.
"Maybe New York folks just like those
Ginger Rogers pictures and this Hedy La-
marr. I can't compete with them."

Right you are, pardner, right you are.

■

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For the Memory

"Thanks for the memory
Of the bird that wasn't there;
The dame who tore her hair;
Of corny shows, a busted nose,
A Chicago cupboard bare?
NO THANK YOU so much!"

By JOYCE LANG

| Strong men break down and weep
when Bob Hope sobs out that hereto-
fore unpublished version of the ditty he
made famous. There's such a sad story
back of it that Bob even goes pretty much
to pieces himself.

"It sort of brings out the Pagliacci in
me," he explained. "You see, it's the
story of some . of my more memorable
flops, professional and personal. As Fidler
would say, memories that bless and burn."

Frankly startled, I took another swig
of the prune juice (bottled) which Bob
was providing for my refreshment on the
set of Paramount's Road To Singapore in
which he is co-starred with Crooner
Crosby and Luscious Lamour. By habit
I'm geared to hearing actors talk about
their successes and how they laid 'em
in the aisles in Wawhoozis. It's revolu-
tionary to hear a blunt admission of

a flopperoo, even set to music.

"I'm different," Bob modestly confessed.
"I count my little failures one by one.
I find it extremely effective for a threat-
ened case of the swelled head. For in-
stance, did I ever tell you about the time
they laid me in the aisles of a Cleveland
stove factory?"

It seems Bob had a brother who owned
a stove factory in Cleveland, Ohio, to
which he was adding a new wing. One
day the brother came up with an idea of
magnificent proportions. He would stage
a show for the employees within the
factory itself when the wing was com-
pleted, and, as the star of the show, would
present Bob who was winning acclaim
with his vaudeville act of casual and
sophisticated chatter.

Flattered by this demonstration of fra-
ternal confidence, Bob agreed to appear.

Came the night of the big shin-dig and
Bob stepped airily out on the makeshift
stage which had been erected amidst the
massive machines used in creating the
stoves. Facing him were several hundred
workmen and their wives, a pleasant ex-
pression of anticipation written on their
faces.

"Then began one of the wildest night-
mares I ever lived through," Bob related.
"I pulled my first gag, a sure-fire laugh-
getter. Nothing happened to break the
attentive silence. Taken aback, I let go
with another gag, one of my best. Blank
faces stared back at me. Jarred to my eye
teeth, I poured everything I had into the
next five minutes. I worked like I've
never worked before or since. I tried
highbrow jokes and lowbrow puns. Not
one single laugh could I milk from that
dead-pan audience. Exhausted and beaten,
I finally stumbled from the stage to a
polite smattering of applause. It was
obvious they believed they had been sold
down the river and by the boss himself.
It was a touchy situation."

"Gee whiz," I sympathized, "You
couldn't have been that bad. What had
gone sour?"

"Just a trifle, considering I was doing
a monologue," Bob sighed. "It seems the
room had been sound-proofed to deaden
the roar of the machinery, an item some-
body forgot to tell me about. My long-
suffering audience therefore was under
the impression I was doing a 'dumb' act,
which is theatrical parlance for panto-
mime. And, I might add, a very unfunny
'dumb' act!"

Then there was the Case of the Phantom
Razzberry or The Little Bird That Wasn't
There. That happened just last summer
when Bob was making a personal appear-
ance at the Paramount Theatre in New
York.

He was standing in the wings at the
afternoon show waiting his turn and list-
ening to the singer with the band when the
disturbing sound of a nice round razz-
berry, vulgarly called a Bronx cheer, met
his ears.

"My, my," Bob muttered to himself,
'what a friendly audience we have today!"

A few moments later he was on stage
and well into the telling of his third gag
when the unpleasant noise again made
itself heard. This time it was a good
loud one. Flicking the audience with
an annoyed glance, he interrupted his
routine to inquire if the bus from the
Bronx was in, and then went on. Again
he was half way through a gag when the
full-toned razzberry bellied out to the
accompaniment of screaming laughter
from the audience. This time he stopped
and stepped to the footlights.

"Will the ushers please locate the char-
acter who is doing that and bring him
backstage?" he asked icily. "Now as I
was saying . . ."

Again he went on with his act and again
in the middle of a joke the rude noise
broke it up. The audience was roaring
by this time but Bob was mad as hops.

"Who's doing that?" he demanded
angrily.

A man in the third row pointed toward

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the ceiling. Bob interpreted the signal to
mean the offender was sitting in the mez-
zanine and promptly dispatched the stage
manager to find the house manager and
send him to find the heckler and throw
him out.

The helpful Hannah in the third row,
however, had meant no such thing. He
was pointing to the horns of the sound
amplifiers, whence, the enraged and
nerve-shattered comedian later discov-
ered, the insulting noises were broadcast
each time a brush in the defective sound
system passed over a certain point in the
motor. And to make it worse, it also was
discovered the horns were designed only
for use during the showing of the picture
and there had been no need for them to
be on at all during the stage show!

"Luck like that seems to haunt me,"
Bob mourned.

■ As he went on to tell me of other sad
mishaps (sad for him, that is) which
had befallen him, one truth did become
apparent: his famous flops were not en-
tirely of his own making; somebody or
something else usually had a hand in
them. Like the untimely entrance Gover-
nor Lehman of New York made, and the
woman who threw a fit.

The Lehman debacle occurred when
Bob was a guest star at the Judge Hart-
mann benefit for the Israel Orphanage in
Madison Square Garden. In his limited
routine he had only one gag to pull and
for five minutes he worked his audience
of 22,000 to the proper pitch for the punch
line. Just as he was about to deliver it
to what he hoped would be thunderous
applause, the governor of the sovereign
state of New York made a stately entrance
down the center aisle. Twenty-two thou-
sand heads turned as one from Hope to
Lehman. Even the spotlight deserted
him to focus on His Excellency who
promptly milked all the handclapping Bob
had been working so hard to win. When
the tumult finally died down and the light
swung back to him, Bob was strolling off
the stage.

"Oh well," he told the audience, "that's
what I get for being a Republican."

fl The fit lady broke up his act in St.
Louis. The audience had been sitting
on its hands, which is the blunt way an
actor describes an unresponsive crowd,
and Bob had been working overtime to
warm it .up. (Managers, it seems, are
peculiarly sensitive about audiences which
fail to laugh at a comedian, and apt to be
pretty plainspoken about it when pay-off
time comes around.) Things were be-
ginning to look a little more favorable
and Bob was beginning to thaw out when
it happened. A commotion broke out in
the front row. People yelled and stood
on their seats to see what was happening.
Ushers rushed up and down the aisle.
The house lights went up and soon two
huskies appeared in white uniforms to
carry out a kicking, screaming woman.
Meanwhile Bob stood alone on the big
stage, the original Forgotten Man.

"I don't mean to be unkind about it,"
he said plaintively to me, "but I've always
thought she might have been a little more

considerate about the time. A seal act
followed me and it wouldn't have bothered
them a bit."

| No thanks for the memory either, he
said, of the eight minutes of agony he
put in on a London stage last winter try-
ing to coax smiles from the stone-faced
Britons with the same material that had
American audiences splitting their sides.
Or for the weary winter months in Chicago
in 1927 when theatre managers wouldn't
give him a tumble for love or money that
resulted in a $400 bill for doughnuts and
coffee! Or for the night Bandleader
Jimmie Grier introduced him to a Bilt-
more Bowl audience. He was just getting
a toehold in Hollywood then, Bob said,
and the introduction was a swell break
for him because a lot of movie bigwigs
were in the house. ,

"Shirley Ross was getting a forestry
award or something that night and had
taken me with her," Bob related. "The
Bowl was jammed and I was tickled pink
when Jimmie asked if he might also pre-
sent me."

The drums rolled and the trumpets blew
a fanfare. Into the spotlight stepped our
young hero.

"And now ladies and gentlemen,"
Jimmie announced, "I would like to pre-
sent that famous Broadway comedian, that
brilliant star of vaudeville and musical
comedy, the young man whose name is
on everyone's lips, the Paramount find of
the year BOB HOKE!"

■ He'd also just as soon forget a certain
afternoon in Cleveland when he was
a brash young whiffet (whiffet: a super-
whippersnapper) of 16 who fancied him-
self as a pretty tough gent and some shakes
when it came to boxing, having taken a
successful part in a number of amateur
boxing tournaments. In cocky confidence
he invited his dad, William Henry, to
step out in the back yard and put on the
gloves.

William Henry must have been some
shakes with his fists himself. The bout
ended with one blow, a beautiful hay-
maker with which he bopped his pre-
sumptious young son flush on the beak!

It is with some pain he recalls an earlier
afternoon in Cleveland when Aunt Leth-
bridge persuaded him to -sing and recite
at a garden party for the Woman's Club.
(From last reports Aunt Lethbridge would
just as soon forget it too.) Decked out in
the prim habiliments of a well brought up
boy of 11, he chose to render the touching
poem called "Somewhere In France." To
his horror, the good ladies of Cleveland
laughed in his face.

"But truth crushed to earth will rise
again," Bob philosophized. "That de-
cided me to be a comedian. Without,
however, gestures."

At 12 he made his debut in crime, an-
other uncomfortable memory. He was
working after school in a flower shop and
in cahoots with the other delivery boy,
pinched $2.00 of the firm's delivery money
to buy some coveted roller skates.

"My legs still ache when I think of the
swift punishment meted out to us," he
grinned. "Aside from being sent to scorn-

ful Coventry by our families, we were
made to work for the proprietor of the
shop for the next three months without
wages. Furthermore, we were given no
street-car money for transportation but
had to make every last delivery on foot!
"Needless to say, that put an abrupt end
to any notion either of us entertained that
crime was a paying proposition."

| If a good fairy ever comes along and
offers to erase one memory from the
Hope mind, Bob won't be tortured by in-
decision. There's one he's been trying to
get rid of for the past 15 years.

It was in the hey-day of vaudeville in
1925 when Bob and his partner, George
Byrne, finally talked the innocent manager
of the Franklin theatre in the Bronx into
giving them a try-out. The act, I believe,
bore the original title of The Personality
Boys in Smart Songs, Dances and Patter.

The thud it registered could be heard
at the Battery seven miles away. But not,
apparently, in the ears of Mr. Hope and
Mr. Byrne, for they dashed out of the
dressing room in wild excitement when
they heard the manager calling them at
the conclusion of the show. The ace vaude-
ville house of the country, the Palace,
probably was clamoring for their talent.

"Hope and Byrne!" the manager roared.

"Yes, SIR!" Bob shouted. "Right here!"

The manager gave them a fishy eye.
"You might at least put on a little make-
up and LOOK good the next time you try
out ... in somebody else's theatre!"

Ill Defense of Duels

[Continued from page 23]

apple pie. Our cars were parked so close
that we practically had our elbows in each
other's plates.

The lights were a-flash on Hollywood
Boulevard and the traffic flowed in a shiny
stream down Sunset. From near-by motors
floated chatter and laughter, laced with
the odor of gardenias and fried shrimp,
and Clark Gable was deep in potato chips
two cars beyond. It all seemed doggone
romantic to our unsophisticated American
gaze. But there certainly weren't any
duels. "Don't stop," we begged Ilona . . .
"that duel they fought over you. How was
it? Why was it? Give!"

"Dinner in Budapest!" Ilona said, and
the way she said it, it could have been the
title of a movie. Ilona has hazel eyes
which often look blue. They are singularly
luminous and mischievous, and feature a
sidelong glance that's thoroughly Buda-
pestian. You can gather how diverting a
dinner in Budapest might be.

"Well, this evening," Ilona continued, "a
man took me to one of our beautiful, large
restaurants where the linen is so white
and fine and the waiters so attentive and
the gypsy orchestra so— gypsy. Another
man I knew came over from his table and
asked me to dance.

"In such a case, an Hungarian girl turns
to her escort and says, 'May I?' If he says,
'No,' she is supposed to refuse. My escort

said, 'No' " — Ilona's eyes sparkled — "but
I said, 'Yes'."

She sampled the apple pie. "After the
dance, my escort bowed to this man, very
stiffly," — Ilona drew herself up and bowed
very stiffly over the dessert — "who bowed
in return, and they exchanged cards. The
man with whom I had come to dinner said,
'My seconds will call upon you in the
morning.' So everybody knew soon there
will be a fight with swords."

Wasn't she in a dither? Wasn't she
aghast? Wasn't —

"I was excited. Yes. But everybody
knew it would not be a fatal thing. It takes
courage, naturally, but with swords it is
not too serious. Soon after dawn, as I
heard later in the day, they went out to a
distant woods. Because to duel is against
the law, so they fight inside military bar-
racks, where the police cannot intrude, or
they go to distant places in secret. And
those two fought in the woods.

"The man who took me to dinner re-
ceived a cut on his arm, the man who
danced with me received a cut on his cheek
of which he was very proud. So everyone
was satisfied. But if it is a dispute over
here, you scowl, that is all."

"Come, come, Ilona," we said. "Scowls
are better in the long run than swords.
Safer, at any rate."

Ilona conceded this. She doesn't have

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an actual yen for bloodshed. "But in
swords is more romance," she countered
firmly. "Many times the Hungarian does
not consider himself a man till he has a
sword mark, on the face if possible, to
show what a big, brave man he is." She
laughed tolerantly. "They like it, or they
would not do so. They duel about every-
thing. For a look. For nothing.

"Your escort asks what selection you
wish the orchestra to play. He reaches
the orchestra leader at the same time an-
other man is telling the leader to play
some other selection. Neither will yield.
So! A duel, of course.

"Not with pistols, not for a reason like
this. Pistols are serious, and for a cause
more important than a look or a tune. But
when it comes to swords — nearly every-
one has been to fencing school and can
defend himself. It is over in two hours."

Two hours.

"I do not say there is no risk, but in
Hungary for centuries it has been the
custom to settle a dispute in this way.
Why, I know a man, he is famous in Hun-
gary, who at the age of 45 had fought 76
duels. Simply, people kept disagreeing
with his opinions and naturally he kept
sending challenges.

"Another man, the girl's parents would
not let him pay court to her, so they eloped.
He was a clerk in a bank, nobody ever
heard of him, but he became the most
celebrated person in the land. Because
first he had to fight a duel with the girl's
father, then with each of her three broth-
ers— some of them pistol duels, I think —
and he won every time. People made
much of him; he was a hero."

"You said it," we murmured.

"Hungarian men like to duel," Ilona
insisted.

"Then it's too one-sided," we objected.
"If men have such fun duelling over girls,
girls ought to be allowed to duel over
men."

"Oh, they do," Ilona responded; "women
often go to fencing school, and there have
been cases where two women fought with
swords over a man. But," she added
primly, "this is not considered very
feminine."

■ For a while she paid attention to her
apple pie. But presently she fetched
a deep, nostalgic breath.

"To go out for the evening in Budapest,"
she said, "is not to know a dull moment,
even if there is no duel, because the men
are so considerate, so attentive. You keep
an Hungarian waiting an hour, he bows
low and says it does not matter, he was
happy to wait for you, your arrival is his
reward. Of course — " Hona's eyes flashed
merriment — "he may not show up at all
next time, but he will not complain about
your delay this time. Hungarian men are
not easily stirred to anger with women.

"You walk down the street with him,
and he is watching constantly from the
corner of his eye to see whether you no-
tice any other man. Hungarian men are
extremely jealous. They are generous, but
they are jealous. You looked at him! I
saw you!' 'Oh, no; honestly, I didn't', and
you are hurt and indignant. So then he
cries: "The stars are not shining because

you are not smiling. What can I do? I
will give you the moon, I will tear the stars
from the sky for you!' "

"It is satisfactory," Ilona pointed out.
returning to her pie, "to spend the eve-
ning with a man who is going to have
the moon wrapped up for you, or what-
ever else you want. One night a man was
taking me home and I merely mentioned:
'I think I smell lilies of the valley.' No
more. That was all. He is the man who
had the 76 duels, by the way.

"It is nearly midnight, and I say good-
night to him, and I go into the house and
go to bed. At two in the morning, the
whole household of my aunt is aroused.
At the door stands a florist's messenger
with — I don't know — two, four dozen
bunches of lilies of the valley. An armful!"

"Romance can certainly be a pest, eh?"
we commented. "Bet your aunt was good
and mad."

Hona's eyes shone. "No, no. My aunt is
delighted, I am delighted, the maid who
wakes to open the door, the florist's boy,
the florist himself who was roused up and
had to hunt around at that hour for lilies
of the valley — we are all delighted be-
cause it is such a nice thought, a kind
attention. You understand?

"Hungarian men try to think in every
way of things that will please ladies.
Nothing is too much trouble.

"In Hollywood, I am surprised. A
woman is supposed to seat a man in the
most pleasant chair, to see that he is com-
fortable, to offer him a cigarette ... I
think men in Hollywood are spoiled. Per-
haps there are too many women here?"

Evidently there are not too many in
Hungary. So imbued is that country with
romance, Ilona stated, that both roses and
cooking aid and abet it. Red roses mean
love, as they do anywhere. But a girl
adores receiving a great mass of yellow
roses; they indicate that the swain is jeal-
ous. White roses, on the other hand, sym-
bolize distant, reverent worship, admira-
tion from afar.

| As for cooking — Well, romance has
other hazards than the sword.

"In some country districts, after a man
has called upon a girl a few times but has
not spoken of marriage, we have a saying
that the girl's mother can help her. The
girl's mother (it must be nobody else) cuts
a small lock of hair from the girl's head
and chops it very small and cooks it in a
piece of meat, a cake, anything. Then it's
up to the girl to get the young man to eat
some of the dish. When he does, every-
thing's all right. Soon he will formally ask
the parents' consent to court the girl, for
courtship is never casual in Hungary."

A dash of music from the radio of a
near-by car brought Ilona to the subject of
serenades. In Hungary, they have every-
thing.

"For a serenade, the young man hires a
gypsy band of musicians, it is not ex-
pensive, and drives out to the girl's house
at midnight. Probably with a horse and
carriage, for motors are not so numerous
as here. Then he stays in the carriage and
drinks her health in wine while the gypsy
band plays and the leader sings a love
song.

"If the girl wants this man to court her,
she waves a lighted candle across her bed-
room window. If not, the window remains
dark."

"But suppose the girl doesn't happen to
be home that midnight when the serenader
appears?"

Ilona looked prettily shocked. "Any de-
cent girl would be home by midnight!"

She herself had been serenaded, Ilona
confessed. "Oh, what an uproar! Not the
music, for it was beautiful, what I heard.
But my father! 'Go away!' he cried, storm-
ing to the door, 'you are both too young
to think of marriage!' (I was about 14.)
The boy left with his gypsies. You can
imagine how I felt — my first serenade to
end like this."

Did she wave a candle in the window?

"I hadn't time to light a match," she
chuckled, "much less a candle. My father
was at the door so quick, you wouldn't
believe."

■ It was shortly after this romantic but
melancholy incident that Ilona went
to the city to live with her aunt and, not
yet 15, to work as seamstress in a tailor
shop, saving money meantime for voice
lessons. The next few years were discour-
aging. People told her she would never
be a singer, and the family, despite the
early serenade, were now convinced that
she'd never find a husband — by Hungarian
standards she was too thin. "And I was
10 pounds heavier," Ilona recalled, "than
today." Suddenly she got a job with the

Budapest opera chorus at $12 a month
and, in due course, became a diva of the
Viennese opera; father and mother in
peasant costume occupying a box at her
debut.

"To sing, that is the principal thing in
Hungary," Ilona explained warmly;
"everyone can sing. At harvest time on
my father's farm we would all sit in the
garden when evening came, and sing.

"Yes, with Hungarians to sing is first,
then to make love, and to fight. At some
country weddings there is such a terrible
fight to decide who shall first kiss the
bride that they say it isn't a wedding un-
less there's a killing. Romance again! . . .
You have to be a little mad, perhaps, to
appreciate it; the romance." She laughed
delightedly. "At least you need to be a
little bit Hungarian."

She returned to the apple pie but
looked up to observe that one thing
Hollywood has in common with Hungary
is its sense of humor; its flair for practical
jokes. "Yet even in Hollywood I have
never seen such a practical joke as was
played by a Hungarian of whom I knew.
He gave a party and, as rounds of wine
were served, he decided that his guests
were dull. So he locked them in the house
and set it afire.

"They began to plead with him, to flatter
him. 'Well, you can come out,' he'd say
to one of them, 'but not those others'—
until one by one, he had let them all out.
Then they turned to and extinguished the
fire. Why not? He was a splendid man,

only a trifle tipsy, and besides it was a
great joke."

But there is something else which
Hollywood decidedly does not have in
common with Hungary. Petticoats,

"I have seen an Hungarian country girl
with fifty petticoats on. Not fifteen. Fif-ty.
It was a terribly hot day, too. The more
petticoats a girl has, the richer she is sup-
posed to be. Besides, the graceful way she
sways as she walks with many petticoats
is considered a help to romance.

■ "And you know another difference
between Hungary and Hollywood? In
Hungary, a man offers to tear down the
stars from the sky for a girl. But after
she's married to him she calls him 'uram'
—'my lord.' "

Ilona's smile didn't let on whether she
considered this an improvement over
American ideas or not. "My lord." We-ell,
maybe he rates it in return for armfuls of
roses and moons yanked from the heavens
and serenades and duels . . . "The stars
are not shining because you are not smil-
ing . . ." Hot diggity!

Wham!

Even Ilona looked up quickly from the
remnant of her pie, returning to it with
what seemed like a disappointed shrug,
and as for Us — our head full of Hungarian
thoughts — we hung eagerly out the car
window. But, no. It was only a tray
dropped by a red -slacks girl. It wasn't
(alas for romance in Hollywood!), it defi-
nitely wasn't the clash of swords.

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Tyrone Power and Loretta Young are two of the
hundreds of stars and studio workers for whom
Nick Janios prepares delicious, unusual dishes

By BETTY CROCKER

■ It's probably the only
famous restaurant in
the world where they have
police to keep out the
public, but that isn't all
that makes the Cafe de
Paris unique. Twentieth
Century-Fox operates the
Cafe at a loss to feed its
stars in the grand manner,
and the gentleman in
charge of this important
function is Nick Janios.

Nick khows more celebrities by their
first names than anyone else, but what
is more important at the moment, he
knows exactly what they eat and what
cooking recipes they cherish.

He watches Shirley Temple's diet with
as much care as her mother does. Shirley
loves to filch a huge, fattening pastry, but
Nick sees to it that she eats sensibly. He
enlisted Alice Faye in "selling" her on
spinach and carrots. He baked a cake for
Hedy Lamarr's birthday that drew as
much attention as the glamour girl her-
self, which is certainly something!

Nick sends his chief chef, Alfred Uhl-
rich, on an annual tour to bring back word
of new delicacies, and until the war,
Uhlrich visited the capitals of Europe
every year. After his return, the Cafe is
a busy spot for days as they try out new
dishes in the big kitchens.

Now for some of the favorite recipes
of the stars, gathered from the confidential
portfolio of the Cafe de Paris. Let's start

with a delicious meat dish
favored by Alice Faye:

ALICE FAYE'S
"TALLARNEE"

2 heaping cupfuls un-
cooked noodles
1 pound of round steak,

ground
1 can of tomato sauce (or

soup)
1 can of corn
can of ripe olives
cupful grated cheese
medium onion, chopped
heaping tablespoons butter
cupful water

Mince and fry onion in butter until
brown. Add meat. Stir and cook until
browned. Add tomato sauce and a cupful
of water. Add noodles: stir and cook until
the noodles are tender. More water may
have to be added to keep mixture moist.
Salt to taste. Add corn and olives. Pour
into large buttered casserole. Sprinkle
with cheese. Cook 45 minutes in a 350
degree oven.

RICHARD GREENE'S "RUBY PIE"

Wash 2% cups cranberries
1% cupfuls sugar
IV2 cups cold water

Cook in covered saucepan until the

berries stop popping. Put V3 of the berries
into a deep, well-greased pie plate. Add a
layer of sliced bananas. Continue with
alternate layers of cranberries and bana-
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2 tablespoons butter
1/2 grated onion

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1 gill cream

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HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway,
New York City,
N. Y.

Dear Betty Crocker:

Please send me your file of SIX RECIPES FOR WHOLE-MEAL SALADS.

Name ..-.

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City

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Belle of
Hollywood

Tiie role of the breezy
Belle Wailing was
acted by one of the
quietest, most digni-
fied actresses Holly-
wood eonld discover

SUNFIELD

Above, Ona Munson as Belle
Watling, in Gone With the Wind.
Right, as herself, a talented and
retiring actress who hates fuss
and frills and pretense and noise

9 If President Franklin Delano Roose-
velt is still in the market for a secre-
tary who has a "passion for anonymity,"
we'll gladly recommend Ona Munson, the
Belle Watling of David O. Selznick's Gone
With the Wind.

Here's a girl, a decidedly pretty and
smart one, who has a Broadway stage
background that's about five New York
smash hits ahead of most of her com-
petitors. She's had years of stock ex-
perience. She's been a musical comedy
star. She's played dramatic roles. She's
worked in radio dramatic serials and has
sung on such programs as the Hammer-
stein Music Hall and Manhattan Merry-
Go-Round. And she's been, and is,
definitely, in motion pictures. But you
wouldn't know it from what you've read
about her, mainly because nothing much
has been written about her. And that's

been all right by her, because it has given
her a private life into which very few have
been able to intrude.

Since she's been in Hollywood (for the
second time and we'll go into that later)
she's been to but one big party — and one
for Ona was enough.

"I met the same people with whom I
worked from eight to twelve hours a day,"
she explains. "Not that I'm snooty or the
least bit choosey. Oh, my, no! It just
happens that when I work I want no
social life at all. My idea of a pleasant
social evening, after working hard on the
stage or in pictures, is to be absolutely
alone. My favorite indoor sport, when
I'm alone, is to indulge in my one and
only hobby, that of bringing my scrap-
books up-to-date. These books, in case
you think I'm a press-clipping saver-
upper, are not for or about myself. I have

one for all my friends, another for articles
and pictures on interior decoration, and
a third for the theatre ballet."

When she's free from theatre and screen
chores, she likes to draw on her circle of
friends for a bit of chit chat about this and
that— which is one reason (we hope) why
she invited us to her home not long ago.
During the course of our visit, one word
led to a couple of thousand and we're
passing them on to you, feeling that you
will like to know something about the girl
who had to be coaxed (it's the gospel
truth, so help us!) to make a test for one
of the most coveted feminine roles in
screen history.

"Being a girl," she said, "my parents
hadn't thought of any career for me, so
I selected one all by myself. Having
danced from the day I took my first baby
steps there was just no alternative. The
first job at which I ever earned any money
was in vaudeville. I was fourteen then,
and, to make myself appear older, I used
my salary to buy a diamong ring. I still
have it."

Ever since she was a tiny child, Ona
danced at amateur performances without
number. "Hundreds of them," she claims.
Before she was well into her teens, Ona
began to work her girlish shenanigans
upon her mother, and at last prevailed
upon her to take her out of Miss Catlin's
School for Girls in Portland, Oregon, and
after that to take her to New York.

"By now," Ona says, "I not only per-
suaded myself, but Mother also, that I
should take up dancing, seriously. A few
months later I was studying the ballet
under the Russian teacher, Larasoff. A
few months later something else happened.
Gus Edwards saw me dance and plucked
me out of my Larasoff classes to become
soloist in one of his big vaudeville revues.
This was when I was fourteen. Two
months with Edwards and then the ex-
ecutives of the Keith-Orpheum vaudeville
circuit placed me at the head of a troupe
called A Manly Revue. A more apt title
would have been Six Men and a Girl be-
cause that's what the troupe consisted of.
After we had played in every city in the
United States, Mother and I decided we'd
had enough of traveling and so we went
to Europe! We lived there for a little
more than a year and most of my time was
spent catching up on my education,"

| Our singing-dancing globe-trotter re-
turned to New York just in time to
cop off the feminine lead in the musical
comedy No, No, Nanette. The two years
she spent with this show were the happiest
two years she's ever spent in her life she
says. Maybe the reception she received
from the cash customers had something
to do with that. It was nothing unusual,
so Ona says, to do anywhere from five
to a dozen encores of "Tea for Two" and
"I Want To Be Happy," the two smash
songs of the show.

No, No, Nanette proved to be the fore-
runner of a long list of musical comedies
in which Ona was starred. Tip Toes,
Manhattan Mary (with Ed Wynn), Hold
Everything (with Victor Moore and Bert
Lahr), Pardon My English (with Jack

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Gone With
The Wind

SPECIAL MOVIE EDITION
> COMPLETE, UNABRIDGED <

With 14 pages of gorgeous pictures
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Buchanan), and Hold Your Horses (with
Joe Cook.)

Ona hit Hollywood for the first time as
a Warner Brothers player and did several
pictures, among them being Going Wild,
The Hot Heiress, Broad-minded and Five
Star Final. It was this picture that gave
Ona the idea that she might go places as
a straight dramatic actress.

"I thought it was worth a good old
college try," she says, "Fortunately for me,
Laura Hope Crews took me under her
wing and I did As Husbands Go, and The
Silver Cord with her. I learned a lot
about acting, but I wasn't satisfied with
myself. I needed more experience."

Ona must have absorbed plenty of the
stage experience she had been working
for and whether or not SHE thought she
had improved, New York producers DID
and backed their theatrical belief in the
girl in the sticks by spotting her in Petti-
coat Fever opposite Dennis King and later
in Ghosts with Nazimova.

Her role in Ghosts was a heavy one
(even though ghosts don't weigh much)
right enough, but it didn't keep her
busy. So she went "haunting" for work
— and found it in radio. If you're a dial
twister you surely must have heard her
in Rich Man's Darling, the Linit pro-
gram, and Cavalcade of America. But
even this added work failed to keep her
busy, and before long she had a singing
cpot on the Hammerstein Music Hall and
Manhattan Merry-Go-Round programs!

Two summers ago Ona packed up her
belongings, shook whatever dust there is
on Broadway from her feet, and went out
to Denver as leading woman at the famous
Elitch's Garden Stock Company theatre
where a Metro-Goldwyn-Maycr scout
finally caught up with her.

S "I refused to go back to Hollywood
at first," Ona says, "because I felt that
I wasn't ready for another fling at motion
pictures, but you know how these scouts
are — they can talk you into anything. So
I came back, checked in at the studio —
and for six months did nothing. When
option time came around, no notification
one way or another came from the studio
which made my release automatic. I did
one picture at Universal called His Excit-
ing Night and then returned to New York
for three months. When I returned I
found Hollywood in a frantic search for
some girl to play the Belle Watling role
in Gone With the Wind. I had never read

the book so I didn't realize what a great
role it was. If I had, I'm sure I would
have made a determined bid for a test,
but about all I did was to sit around and
listen to the great battle that was going
on."

Most likely Ona would be sitting around
yet but for her agent who hot-footed it
out to see David O. Selznick, who was
too busy with production troubles and
worries to take much interest. He'd al-
ready had more than 200 girls tested for
the role and had turned thumbs down on
all of them. Yes, he said grudgingly to
the persistent agent, he'd consent to see
her, but frankly, he didn't have much
hope that anything would come of it.
And neither did the agent the next day
when he brought Ona into the office. One
look at Ona and Selznick said she was
four inches too short. "But," he added
wearily before he shouted NEXT for
another testee, "it won't hurt to see how
you look in the red wig and the dress.
I want to be fair."

That was all that Ona wanted. On the
way to the dressing room she stopped in
a vacant office and phoned in a hurry up
order to her maid to rush out to the studio
with a pair of beach clogs. "The clogs
had four inch cork soles," Ona reveals,
"and I couldn't see why they wouldn't do
in the test to build up my height to Mr.
Selznick's demands."

Ona, all dressed up in her Belle Watling
costume, dropped into Mr. Selznick's
office on the way to her test, and you
should have heard the rumpus that shook
the watts right out of the electric lights.
He gave her one surprised look, and called
in the casting director who also gave her
one surprised look.

"She's a natural for the part!" yelled
the casting director.

"You're it!" Selznick shouted at her.
"You won't need a test!"

As simple as that. More simple, even,
than signing the contract which was
simplicity itself, everything considered.

| Laura Hope Crews, one of Ona's
dearest friends, was a mite peeved
when she heard of this Belle Watling
business. "I may be old-fashioned," Miss
Crews told all and sundry the day the
selection was publicly announced, "but I
can't understand why such a nice girl
would want to play the part of such a bad
woman. Ona certainly is a good artist if
she persuaded them that she could do it."

How To Fascinate a Guest

[Continued from page 31]

flower episode I Wonder if this "fasci-
nating a guest" business is worth the
candle. I wonder if the life of a home-
body is all it's cracked up to be. Every
time I ventured such a thought to Ann,
however, she would give me an arch look
and remind me of what the books said,
and, worse, prove it to me in black and
white.

There was that unfortunate matter
of refreshments. Cesar, I know, is no
toper and would have sold out for a

lemonade. But he got milk because Ann
said that one of the best ways to fascinate
guests, according to her reading, was to
show concern for their health. So Cesar
got a nice healthy slug of milk. How was
Ann to know that he was allergic to cows
and would break out in a fine case of the
hives?

Then there was the session of establish-
ing her competency along the devious
paths of domesticity. The book said it
put a guest at ease to let him join right in

with the routine of the home. If you are
accustomed to doing certain little tasks
at a certain hour each day, let your guest
help you, said the book. Ann usually
doesn't dust the living room during the
evening, but it seemed like a good way to
prove a point.

She dusted every piece of bric-a-brac in
the place, piling it en masse in Cesar's lap
until she could remember where each
piece should be returned, to prove she
was a thorough little soul when she
started something. The telephone call that
kept her on the line for twenty minutes
(and Cesar buried under china cats,
bronze book ends, porcelain figurines,
eight old magazines, a Webster's Inter-
national dictionary weighing twelve
pounds, three iron frogs, four crystal
cigarette boxes, a set of dinner chimes
and a brass platter) could not be helped,
of course, however ill timed it seemed to
be. She dust-mopped and carpet-swept
and vacuum-cleaned. She laid the hearth
and polished the silver, scoured the tile
and washed the windows. She re-hung
pictures and shelled three pounds of peas.

Was Cesar fascinated? Egad, yes! Or
maybe stupefied is the word. His eyes
were positively glazed with awe and
admiration at this show of secret talent.
Even Elizabeth huddled in a dark corner
of the kitchen, kept saying, "This beats
me? It sure does!" over and over. And
Charlie, eying the shaker, was muttering
something about "Daisies won't tsll and
neither will I!"

■ Once upon a time my sisters and I
had a nursemaid who taught us sew-
ing on Saturday mornings. Her favorite
remark, as I remember, was "lange
Faedchen, faule Madchen" which meant
"long thread, lazy girl." I mention it now
only because it has a bearing on what
happened next at the Sheridan home that
Wednesday night. Ann had decided to
carry this "fascinating a guest" business
to a logical extreme.

"The book says that men like to see
women with a dainty bit of needlework in
their hands," she whispered. "It's one of
the gentler arts."

It can be a gentler art, but not the way
she practises it. Cesar will testify to that.

Cosily cuddled at his feet, as beautiful
a picture of domestic bliss as ever I've
seen, Ann clipped off three or four feet of
darning cotton, threaded it through the
needle, and set to work on a diminutive
hole in a tennis sock. In and out, her busy
fingers wove the patch. Cesar, sti'angely
enough (if what the book says is correct)
found himself yawning.

"What's the matter, pal?" I asked. "Not
bored, are you?"

At that psychological moment it hap-
pened. In pulling a stitch taut, the lange
Faedchen carried the needle smack into
a section of the Romero anatomy.

"Bored!" he screamed. "I'm stabbed!"

"That's terrible!" cried Ann. "And I
bet you're hungry, too, for some home
cooking!" (She gave me a bright knowing
smile, "The way to a man's heart!" she

whispered, and led the way to the kitchen.

I want to go on record with this observa-
tion right now: Kate Smith may be a
cake-baker of the old school; so may
Oscar of the Waldorf; even I can turn out
a fair-to-middlin' sample of the culinary
art. But Miss Ann Sheridan is no cake
maker like I ever saw before or hope to
see again. I say that not in malice but
in reverence for the greatest one-woman
cyclone I have ever seen in action. No
monotonous obeisance to tradition for her!
No, sir! It's a thrill a minute and as dare-
devil a performance as ever I saw on the
Indianapolis speedway or a Pete Smith
short. The abandon with which she cracks
an egg and looses the titanic force of an
electric beater in a bowl of batter! The
nonchalance with which she tosses ingre-
dients together! The verve she puts into
the thing defies description! It's colossal!
gigantic! stupendous! Brobdingnagian!

There is only one thing wrong with it.
It doesn't fascinate a guest. Book or no
book, it doesn't! How do I know? Because
after we managed to revive him, Cesar
made the hastiest exit from the Sheridan
house on record. There was a terrifying
gleam in his eye and strange gutteral
sounds coming from his throat.

Elizabeth summed it all up very neatly
when the closing door mercifully drew a
curtain on the evening.

"Miss Ann, honey," she counseled. "You
stick to oomph and let me take care of this
here homebody business. That way we
both'll get along fine."

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Seven

Dorothy Laniour does not lot
the sun and the wind of her
outdoor pictures, Typhoon
and The Road to Singapore
prevent her looking lovely
at night. Here are her tricks

£ This is a strictly work-a-day world.
For that reason, romance and gaiety
begin for most of us in the evening — after
we have covered up the
typewriter or washed the
last dish. That is when
we meet love and fun
half-way. That is when
we transform ourselves
from practical, hard-
working girls into
glamorous and alluring
creatures!

So, make the most of
your looks in those magic

GOT A DATE?

Then be sure ycu look your
loveliest! Write to our beauty
editor for her advice on how
to be your most alluring for
gala occasions. Ask her about
any of your beauty problems.
The address is Ann Vernon,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine, 1501
Broadway, New York City, N. Y.

By ANN VERNON

hours between 7 p.m. and midnight — or
whenever curfew rings for you. Naturally
you will have taken daily care of your
skin, cleansing and soft-
ening it regularly.
Naturally you will have
shampooed and brushed
your hair like a good
little girl, and kept your
figure slim. So you have
a good firm foundation
for those extra touches
preparatory to stepping
out for the evening.
Dottie Lamour looks

as if she were watching the clock dis-
approvingly because her escort of the
evening is late. But that sober look will
vanish when he arrives, because she is
certainly all beautified to make the most
of the occasion. Make-up, hairstyle,
manicure — everything is perfect for a
gala evening. You notice that she isn't
sitting on her hands to hide them! No,
indeed! She's flaunting that lovely new
nail polish she just put on. She knows
it's wise to change your polish to har-
monize with your costume, so she has
selected a deep polish that picks up the
shimmering of her gold lame dress.

Chipped nail polish or polish that is too
pale or dull under electric lights is one of
the things that can help ruin an evening,
as you may have discovered. I am all
agog about some new opalescent nail
polishes that are the latest brain-storm of
a famous nail lacquer manufacturer. I
fell for them immediately, and I think you
will, too. They all shimmer and sparkle
like opals when they catch the light, and
are especially glamorous at night, although
lovely during the daytime for an extra-
feminine touch. There are three shades
of pink and red, so you can have your
choice. Number 1 is a delicate iridescent,
clinging-vine pink, to wear with pastels;
Number 2 is a radiant, lustred rose to wear
with clearer colors; Number 3 is a shim-
mering red to go with navy or black, all
white, or the popular red-white-and-blue
combinations. These polishes are not de-
signed to appeal to the tweedy type or the
stay-at-home girl, but if you have a trace
of glamour in you, these sparkling polishes
will set it off! The polish is the long-
wearing kind, bears a reputable trade-
mark— and the price is only 35 cents a
bottle. Want the name?

Don't Dottie's eyes look lovely? That's
because she knows that a touch of mascara
and shadow give them the extra accent
they need under trying electric lights.
All beauty-wise women use eye make-up
sparingly for daytime — and more gener-
ously at night, so that their eyes won't fade
out under artificial lighting. Take this
tip seriously and start experimenting with
eye make-up, if you haven't already dis-
covered its peculiar magic. And drop me
a line if you want the name of my most
faithful friends, a grand mascara and a
line of shadows. The lash darkener comes
in cake and cream form, and I usually
keep the cake in my dressing table, the
tube of cream in my bag, for emergency
eye make-ups. Both go on very easily,
dry quickly, and refuse to run or make
smudges on your cheeks. For daytime,
I generally just tip the ends of my upper
lashes, or apply a single coat covering
them completely. For evening, I apply
one coat, let it dry, then follow with a
second. This makes the lashes seem much
heavier and longer . . . The shadows come
in six heavenly shades — blue, blue-grey,
grey, green, brown and violet — and are
so creamy that you can apply them as
easily as you apply lipstick. The mascara
and shadows come in small sizes at 10
cents each, and the mascara comes in large
sizes at 75 cents. I'll be delighted to send
you the name.

But don't make up your eyes unless
they're bright and clear. Bloodshot eyes
or red, swollen lids don't take kindly to
decoration ... If your eyes are temporarily
in this condition, after a hard day at the
office, you can whip them into shape in a
few minutes with some grand little eye
pads. I used them one evening when my
eyes looked and felt like "burnt holes in
a blanket," and how good they felt as
soon as I pressed those soothing, little
white discs over them and how nice they
looked when I finished! The pads are
saturated with a cooling medication that
relieves that weary look and sensation
quickly. To get the best results, relax
while the pads are on your eyes, leaving
them on from 5 to 15 minutes. From time
to time, l-otate the pads with light pres-
sure over the eyelids, so that the medica-
tion will flow into the eyes. These handy,
sanitary pads come in jars, inexpensively
priced. There's a small size in many 10
cent stores. If you wish, I'll send you the
trade name.

Have you ever caught a glimpse of your
face in a mirror at the corner drug store
(as you were having a soda before saying
good-night) — and found it a sickly grey-
ish color? That, my dears, is a disgusting
trick that electric light can play. But you
can fool the most unflattering light, if you
use a rose-toned powder base. It will keep
your skin glowing like a pink sweet pea
all evening. The one I have in mind is a
wonder-worker. It is a creamy, easily-
spread foundation in stick form. You just
dab it lightly on forehead, chin, nose and
cheeks, then blend it over your skin
evenly. Of course, it makes your face
powder go on more smoothly, and stay on
without caking or getting gummy . . .
There are several shades that have been
on the market for some time, but this
newest one is my favorite — because its
pinky-peach, rosy-beige color is just the
ticket for evening wear. It makes you
look young, radiant and glowing, without
any artificiality. It comes in 25-cent size.

Dottie Lamour's up-in-front and down-
in-back coiffure is lovely, isn't it? And
she doesn't have to worry for fear it will
get lank and drippy before the evening's
over, because she's fastened those curls
securely with bob pins. She won't have
to drive her date mad, either, by con-
stantly reaching up to pat a curl into
place. Try this hairstyle yourself — and
don't forget to anchor it with some excel-
lent bob pins I recommend. They're coated
twice with dull enamel, so they can't show
up in your hair, and they are made of
such springy metal that they don't spread
out of shape when they've been used a
lot. You'll find that they won't slip out
because of this firm grip, and that's im-
portant. A dime for a card of 18 is cheap,
considering the quality.

Write to me before May 15th, if you
want the names of any of the products
mentioned in this article. Be sure to
enclose a stamped (U. S. postage,
please) self-addressed envelope and
address your request to ANN VERNON,
Beauty Editor, HOLLYWOOD Maga-
zine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

Pale Cheeks
don't thrill hearts!

. . . White faced women look uhl ...

Here . . . revealed for the first time is one
of Hollywood' s most important make-up
secrets: To make an actress look old or un-
romantic, they whiten her cheeks. To make
her look younger, fresher, more desirable,
they give color — the glow of real,
live color to her cheeks.

The eye of the
motion picture
camera is no
more critical
than the eyes oj
men you wish to
admire you. No
man craves to
touch a corpse-
like cheek.

.rlny woman, no matter
how young in body or mind,
adds unwanted years to her
looks by going about with
white, lifeless cheeks.
Colorless cheeks are repel-
lent . . . they look sickly . . .
corpse-like. ..cold.. .no
one wants to touch them.
And flat, one-tone rouges
do little better. They look
"fakey". . . painted and re-
pellent, too. They give you
artificial, lifeless color. . .no radiance. . .no
way to charm. But oh how different is lively
duo-tone rouge! It's really alive. ..it glows
. . . its color looks real, as if it came from
within ... it radiates vivacity . . . sweetness
. . . so warm that no one, just NO one, can
ever resist its invitation! Duo-tone rouge
is the easiest in the world to get, too. You
simply ask for PRINCESS PAT ROUGE.
All stores have it in all shades. See them . ..
one is sure to be YOUR "shade oj romance"
. . . the shade that will make YOU look
younger . . . more really exciting to hearts!

Princess Pat
Rouge

SEND FOR AEE lO SHADES

PRINCESS PAT, Dept. 2350, ChicaSo

Please send me all 10 shade* of PRINCESS
PAT ROUGE that I may find my "Shade of
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Take a Trip to "Our Town"

[Continued from page 27]

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how to get his characters on or off the
screen. When they have spoken their
pieces, his Mr. Morgan merely picks up the
camera and moves on.

As long as Mr. Wilder has taken such
great liberties in telling his story of Our
Town, there is no reason why we cannot
adopt the same method of telling the in-
formal tale that underlies the making of
the movie.

And so, kidnapping Mr. Morgan and his
camera for the time being, let's embark
on a tour of the studio set where the
picture is coming to life.

"See that dapper little fella leaning on
Dr. Gibbs' fence?'' our own Morgan in-
quires. "That's Sol Lesser. Aya, the
producer of Our Town. Great little
sportsman, that Lesser. Spent years around
these parts before anybody took him
serious. Used to make them monkey
pictures and midget pictures and all kinds
of freak monstrosities, like. Had Bobby
Breen for a spell, too.

"Well, he seen this play Our Town on
the stage over in New York and thought
it was a right sma't piece of writing. Like
nothing else ever seen in a movie theay-
tuh, but simple and deep and appealing
none the less. So Sol put in a bid for it, a
good round sum of money. Forty thousand
dollars, some traveling man told us. And
he was the only bidder in the whole of
Hollywood that had nerve enough to take
a chance on it. He's a sport, that Sol. He's
talking to one of his actors now, fella
name of Tommy Mitchell that used to
work for Mr. Warner and Mr. Selznick
and all them. Tommy is Doc Gibbs in the
play. Let's go up close and hear what
they're saying."

| So our guide wheels up his sound
camera and records for us the con-
versation between Producer Lesser and
Actor Mitchell.

Mitchell: "Aren't we both looking a
little better than when last we met? Is
it possible that two people in Hollywood
are having a good season? If so, the
phenomenon is known as Screeno, or hit-
ting the jackpot."

Lesser: "You look fine, Tommy. But
you're a top-rung actor and you're making
a lot of money. But what satisfaction does
a producer get out of life? For me, the
only thing that makes this season bear-

Unjonnttu, mux llmfc-

able is that I've cut my worrying down 90
per cent."

Mitchell: "Where's that fellow you
hired last season to worry for you?"

Lesser: "I caught him worrying about
his own troubles on my time, so I fired
him. Now I've got a new method. All day
long I write down on little slips of paper
the things I should worry about. At night
I give them to my seceretary and she sorts
out the duplicates and throws them away.
Then on Tuesday morning, from 10 until
12, I lock myself up with the week's
accumulation of slips and worry without
interruption. That's my whole quota of
worrying for the week."

Mitchell: "Well, the system seems to be
working all right."

Lesser: "It is. And that's beginning
to worry me too. The system is so efficient
that now I'm two weeks ahead with my
worrying."

Mr. Morgan: "Well, tha€s enough of
shop talk. See that young couple just
breaking up at the stage door? Thafs the
love-interest in our picture. The boy car-
rying the baseball and the mitt is young
Bill Holden, the Golden Boy discovery.
He's coming along fast as a juvenile lead-
ing man. The girl is getting her first
chance in Hollywood. She's Martha Scott,
the only member of the Broadway cast
except Frank Craven (that's me, you
know) that was brought out here to work
in the picture. Let's follow her along the
studio street and see what happens to her."

Martha, clad in a gingham dress, her
hair demurely dressed in the style of
the period, trips off the sound stage in the
direction of the commissary stand which
ranges along the Sam Goldwyn side of
the United Artists studio.

As she lays down her nickel and sips
meditatively at a bottle of soda pop, a
long, rangy hombre wearing a tweed suit
and sunglasses pauses and looks at her
speculatively.

Martha: "Anything I can do for you?"

The Passer-by: "Aren't you Martha
Scott, the one that plays Emily in Our
Town? I heard you were on the lot and
I'm mighty glad to see you. I enjoyed your
performance in New York."

Martha (on the verge of recognizing her
vis-a-vis) : "Don't tell me. I'll think of
your name in a minute. You're — "

The Passer-by: "Gary Cooper, ma'am.
Hope to be seeing more of you."

As Gary walks to his car Martha, nearly
fainting with joy and excitement, rushes
back to her own stage and starts to babble
about her amazing encounter with the
great Gary Cooper in the flesh.

Mr. Morgan: "Kids are pretty much the
same everywhere, I guess; kinda dumb-
struck in the presence of big names.
That's the way we felt in our town when
William Jennings Bryan made a speech
on the green. Well, let's mosey along over
to the choir-loft and see what some of the
lesser folk are up to."

Here we perceive Simon Stimson. the
town sot, conducting a rehearsal of the
choir. Morgan, the see-all, know-all

chronicler of our town, can tell by the
way things have been going lately with
Simon that he is due to commit suicide
pretty soon. But he's charitable toward
the poor bedeviled fellow, as are most of
the townsfolk. Stimson is portrayed by
Philip Wood, a seasoned stage actor who
played a similar drunk part in The Prim-
rose Path. His death just after he had
completed his role in Our Town was a
shocking loss to the film industry.

Mr. Morgan: "Phil Wood's kinda one of
our own folks, we feel, around Our Town.
Went to high school in Berkeley, Cali-
fornia, with our author, Thornton Wilder,
when Thornton stopped off to get his
breath there on the way back from China.
Right likeable fellow, Phil.

"Editor Webb will deal gently with the
town toper in his obituary notice. The
editor's a tolerant fellow, known around
the Masquers' Club in Hollywood as Guy
Kibbee. Guy's knocked all around this
country as a stock actor and riverboat
tragedian; never played on Broadway 'til
he was past fifty. He's the kind of folks
Our Town is made up of.

"One of the editor's best tipsters is Howie
Newsome. Howie — that's Stu Erwin — is
our town milkman. He's practically the
only man astir around town in the early
hours, around three o'clock, except Con-
stable Warren."

Now Morgan's candid camera follows
tipster Howie, the milkman, into a dress-
ing room marked "Fay Bainter."

"Howie's doing a little tipstering now,"
Mr. Morgan whispers.

■ Miss Bainter, garbed in her demure
period costume as the wife of Doc
Gibbs, is stretched out on a chaise longue
munching a hot wienie. Director Sam
Wood is sitting beside her looking as smug
as the cat that knew the secret of opening
salmon cans.

"I can't dope the feature race, Fay,
honey," Erwin confesses. "Maybe there's
no sense trying. This director here already
won $700 today and our bookie is probably
broke."

"Go ahead," Fay urges. "It's nearly time
for the stake race. Pick any kind of an
old goat. Let's get away from the morality
of Our Town in 1901 and do a little plung-
ing. I'll play along with you for ten
bucks."

"You'll lose it," Erwin warns. "I'm
gonna play Seabiscuit, myself, just out of
sentiment."

"Count me in," declares Miss Bainter.
"After all, I won $23 yesterday on your
tips. That's enough to buy me a week's
supply of frogs' legs."

So Miss Bainter bets all the cash in her
purse on Seabiscuit to win. Almost in-
stantly the news trickles in that Seabiscuit
has run third at Santa Anita. Miss Bainter
has to borrow some cash from her stand-in
and from Beulah Bondi, her next-door
neighbor in Our Town, to pay for the
huge shipment of frogs' legs which arrives

almost simultaneously with the bad news
from the track.

Mr. Morgan escorts us to the town drug
store, where the youngster social set sucks
its soda, and to the cemetery on the hill
where the twisted and tormented spirits
of the dead rise to encounter poor dying
Emily.

He lets us ride the camera boom with
Bert Glennon, the fiendishly proficient
cameraman of Stagecoach and Hurricane,
every one of whose set-ups in Our Town
was planned to the millimeter before ever
a lens was trained on it.

fl "We got a kind of a novelty in this
un," Mr. Morgan remarks of his pic-
ture as he slicks off toward a rendezvous
with oblivion on the hillside whence he
strode into our view. "Fust it set out to be
a tragedy, but Mr. Wilder turned it into a
kind of a grim comedy. Emily don't die
in the movie; just gets terrible sick.

"They's so much art and so much kinda
poetic talk in Our Town that 7 don't know
rightly whether it's a movie or su'thin a
new name will have to be thunk up for.
People will either hate it or they'll throw
up their hats in the street about it. What
do I think? I don't have any opinion.
I just work here."

And Mr. Morgan slinks away into a
convenient New England shadow, leaving
his battered hat perched rakishly on the
scarecrow's brow.

<^y*'zene<=Jji

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"When I Was Little—55

[Continued from page 25]

went to the roof of the Methodist Church."

It semed Pat belonged to a "gang" which,
unbeknownst to the peaceful townspeople
of Indianola, Iowa, often successfully de-
fended that community against savage
hordes of redskins, or, upon occasion,
turned pirate and skulked about burying
treasure.

"Naturally, we needed a headquarters,"
Pat said, "and, exploring around, we dis-
covered a nice, level space on the church
roof behind the steeple.. You reached it
by devious means involving a basement
window and plenty of Alpine climbing.
Once there, nobody could see you from the
street. We kept our precious parapher-
nalia in that spot, the five of us. Note-
books, pencils, colored crayons, sketches,
maps to show where the treasure was
buried, and (dusty on the roof, too)
Mother's dustcloth. Probably my mother's
duster is there yet on the roof of the
Methodist Church.

"For we were dispossessed too suddenly
to rescue our things. We could have met
on the roof indefinitely except that we
grew too smart. Music students used to
practice, certain days, on the pipe organ
downstairs, and we'd creep into the
church, crawl under the pews, and moan.
If this didn't cause enough disturbance,
we'd drop the hymn books or rattle the
coin boxes fastened to the backs of the
seats."

The church doors were locked with
extra care, but still the moaners and rat-
tlers came in. At last the organist, watch-
ing in her mirror, caught on to the
"secret" entrance — and next time the way
was blocked.

"For a while then we had headquarters
in a tree in an alley. We'd write notes
about buried treasure — there must be
strings of beads hidden yet in our old
back yard as well as at various other
spots around town. We wrapped the notes
in waxed paper and wired them to the
tree branches. Left them there for people
to find, not that anyone ever did. These,
you see, were 'clues'.

"I hid clues all over the house, too. The
other night I came across one in the pages
of a book we'd had in our Indianola home.
'10 feet to the right from the hat tree in
the hall — four feet to the left' and so on.
It was signed 'The Ghost of the Lane
Mansion'. The house has been turned into
apartments, but behind the walls and
door frames there are doubtless some of
those clues hidden away. And I wonder
what became of the frightful face Lola
drew on the slanting wall of an upstairs
closet with the smoke from a candle?
Open the door in dim light, and your hair
stood on end."

Priscilla grew silent, wandering down
Memory Lane with a smile on her lips.
She said after a moment that she couldn't
imagine growing up in anything but a big
family. They had such good times. Oh,
of course they had their little quarrels,
too, such as the afternoon she bopped
Rosemary on the head with the tennis
racquet and — as she added with rather

impressive understatement — R o s e m a r y
had to go in and lie down.

"What looms up most in those early years
is Saturday morning," she resumed; "we
had no school, of course, and it was the
day we cleaned house. What fun!"

You looked to see if she truly meant
"fun." She did. After all, she's the girl
who liked to dust the roof of the Methodist
Church.

"On the kitchen stove Mother would
have a great kettle of good potato soup or
navy bean soup or stew. Each of us could
help ourselves, and we could take the
biggest bowls in the pantry if we pleased.
After straightening our own rooms, we
had our special task. Leota polished the
furniture, Lola mopped the kitchen floor,
I think Rosemary cleaned the halls, and
I ran the errands.

"All this while, Mother would be cook-
ing cakes and things. We got to lick the
cake bowls and when there was quite a
bit of cake dough left over, Mother would
twist it into 'roly-polys' and bake it just for
us. Saturday morning was a busy, joy-
ous time.

"Another thing I see when I think of
Indianola is our fireplace. How comfor-
table, to roast wienies in it or pop corn,
with the whole family around. These are
the things that count. You realize that,
later."

In those days Pat had no stage or screen
ambitions. She wanted to be a cowgirl
and raise cattle. "I still do," she said,
"I've always loved the outdoors. Perhaps
that was my first mistake — becoming an
actress instead of a cowgirl! Anyway, on
Saturday afternoons we used to go to the
local theatre, where Lola had once played
the piano, to see a Wild West show. We
wouldn't look at anything else. Ten cents
for the ticket, 5 cents for candy. Some-
times when we needed more money for
candy, some of us would buy tickets and
let the rest of us in by a side door we
discovered."

H About this era, Pat's mother thought
it would be nice for Pat to spend vaca-
tion at a Campfire Girls' camp. But Camp-
fire Girls didn't look much like cowgirls
and they didn't rope steers. Pat balked.
The family practically had to drag her to
the camp. And when vacation ended they
practically had to drag her away from it.
She had a bandage on her face, another
on her leg, her arm in a sling, and she
loved it.

"That camp taught me not to make up
my mind beforehand," Pat remembered,
"I had a bad habit of deciding to hate
something before I knew anything about
what it was. I'd take a notion and stick to
it. Stubborn, in other words. That sum-
mer I learned not to be stubborn — at
least," she added with a slight grimace,
"I'm still learning."

Another thing — she turned out to be a
braggy child. Leota gave her a Russian
pony coat. Lola — home from tour — gave
her a discarded dress, and mentioned that
when new it had cost $100.

"The Russian pony coat came from
Canada," Pat revealed, "but I told them
at school that it was straight from Russia.
Moreover, I let it be known that I was
the only school pupil in Iowa — let alone in
Indianola— who had a $100 dress. For
good measure, I tossed off items about the
marvelous (and non-existent) watches
studded heavily with diamonds which my
sisters owned. To cap the climax, I sat
alone at a school football game because
I had my Russian pony coat on and felt
a tiny bit snooty.

"Soon, to my surprise, I noticed that I
wasn't popular. The youngsters would
call for their other friends to go out, but
I'd be left alone with a Sunday afternoon
on my hands. It didn't take me a great
while to learn!"

H It was along in there somewhere that
she happened to see a picture of a
little French girl, all dolled up. Voila!
Pat likewise would be a little French girl.
She changed her dress two or three times
a day, never wore the same dress to school
in the afternoon that she wore in the
morning. (Her favorite clothes now are
slacks and sweaters of the outdoor sort.)
Nor would she don stockings and hose
supporters. Instead, she twisted rubber
bands around little-French-girl socks till
she stopped the circulation in her legs,
and learned, by suffering from the result-
ing "pins and needles," that style ain't
everything.

Meanwhile, she kept right on thinking
her own point of view was invariably cor-
rect and — like any other normal child—
that whoever disagreed with it was com-
pletely insane. She used to gibe at the
girl who, because she was afraid, always
sat in teacher's lap during a thunderstorm.

But she found out how it felt to be gibed
at. She was reciting, in school, some
serious verses about soldiers getting killed.
She had wanted to recite a funny poem,
but had been overruled. As she worked
up to the dramatic climax, two or three
of the boys covertly giggled. It made Pat
mad. Tears began to tumble down her
cheeks and she cried in aloud, outraged
voice: "AND SO THEY WERE SHOT!"
or whatever the final line happened to be.

Whereupon she left the platform and
hurried home, still crying. She felt that
she had disgraced the family, both by
weeping in public and by reciting badly.
Not till one of her sisters also came home
did she learn that for her fine emotional
rendition she'd won a prize!

"Taught me, I guess," Pat said, "that
you can carry off even what you don't
want to do, if you're determined. Or get
mad enough."

9 Possibly the school recitations were
waymarks toward Pat's future career
on the screen, but it was as a singer with
Fred Waring's band that she gained her
first real success. Pat had become a gen-
uine trouper before she reached Holly-
wood, but not without certain trials and
some errors. Once she didn't take an
extra bow with the band because her teeth
ached. The band leader talked to her
later.

"He said people paid to see an enter-
tainer at her best, and that if she couldn't
give them her best she shouldn't appear
at all. He was right, of course. At the
studio, too, I think if you can't do your
best you ought to stay home. It's a kind-
ness to the others as well as to yourself.
I worked in one picture with a bad cold.
My voice was hoarse. When I saw the
film, I felt disappointed, and afraid the
public would feel the same.

"Oh, I'm not one who believes the show
must go on. Nothing is worth your health,
or a half-good performance. Before my
first picture, and in it, I danced many
times a day. People told me to wear a
dance girdle but I thought, 'I'm young, I
don't need it.' And I injured my spine —
not incurably but enough to make me
careful for a while. You see? I learned
not to depend on my youth (these young
people who carouse all night and feel no ill
effects! — it gets them later) , and I learned
to take advice from people who know."

| Lunch ended. Cameras were ready to
turn for the afternoon chore. But Pat
had one thing more to say. She'd saved
the best for the end.

"First impressions," she began, "they're
important, but I've discovered that you
can't trust them permanently. Sometimes
I have found that people who seemed fine
at first, turned out not so good. And vice
versa.

"Well . . . the worst mistake I ever made
in my life was throwing those tomatoes."

She paused to think it over. Soberly.

"Perhaps it was the most enlightening
mistake, too. Today I believe in the policy
of live and let live, but I didn't then. I
was still a grade school pupil, and you
know how children are.

"A boy in our town came home from the
refoi'matory. We bicycled over to his
house that day — thoughtless, cruel kids —
and threw tomatoes at the door. He
rushed out, furious, and chased us on his
bicycle. Everybody fled in a different
direction. Soon I found that he was
chasing only me. I went as fast as I could,
but he was right behind. Suddenly my
wheel slipped. I fell off, flat on the ground.

"The boy jumped from his bicycle in a
rage, and stamped on the rear wheel of
mine till he bent the spokes. He was older
and much bigger than I was. At sight of
my damaged wheel, and also from fright,
I began to cry.

"He looked down at me for a minute.
Then — he fixed the spokes. He straightened
them for me again! I sat there and
watched, stunned by this forgiving act.

"That," said Priscilla, "was when I
learned tolerance. And — " with a quick
smile for the slang interpretation — "how."

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Cary Grant Sounds Off

[Continued from page 16]

in a row and I could stand on my head
in Times Square without anyone batting
an eye! You know that's true, and so does
the public in its heart. Therefore any
'interest' in me is not in Archibald Leach
of Bristol, England, but in the part Cary
Grant plays in what the public chooses
to believe is the fabulous, fantastic advent-
ure called Hollywood."

B Cary looked up and grinned. Whew!
he said. Did all that come out of him?
He certainly was wound up! Could be he
was practising for a soap box session.
Then suddenly he was serious again as he
said:

"Mind you, I'm not saying this in criti-
cism of the public. I sincerely think it
means well and I appreciate it. It's just
that I wonder if men and women who
claim to be interested in us as persons
ever have analyzed honestly what they do
feel. In the meantime most actors' per-
sonal lives can't be called their own."

That's where I led with my chin. I said
I couldn't see what was so tough about
that. Quite the contrary, I should think
it would be flattering to be made a public
idol and have everyone make a great fuss
about you.

A wicked gleam filled his eyes and he
rubbed his hands with ill-concealed glee.

"Lady," he said, "how would you like
to play a little game?"

"Post office?" I said hopefully.

"No," he said promptly. (A trifle too

promptly to do my conceit any good.) "I
call it Movie Star."

"Okay," I said. "What are the rules?"
Cary then explained that I was to pre-
tend I was a movie star. He would pose
certain questions and situations and I
must answer truthfully what my response
or reaction would be. But I had to be
honest; no quibbling or evading. I prom-
ised.

"Well, let's see," he began. "You are
going to the theatre to see a play in which
you are very interested. You arrive at
the theatre five minutes before curtain
time so you won't have to disturb other
patrons in taking your seat. A little girl
runs up as you step from your car and
asks for an autograph. Maybe she has
recognized you and maybe not. You sign
her book. When you look up, three more
books are stuck out at you. Their owners
don't know who you are but they saw
her do it so want to cover all bets. You
sign them. Then twenty more are jabbed
in your face. That twenty don't know
who you are but they saw the other three
do it. By now it is time for the play to
begin but ycu are hemmed in on all sides
with people crowding and pushing. Your
hat gets knocked off. Someone tears a
button from your coat for a souvenir.
Still you go on signing books. Half an
hour or more passes. You still are stuck
outside while the play you paid good
money to see goes on inside the theatre.
You try to break away and the crowd

Myrna Loy, very chic in an open-topped turban, was honor guest at a regular meeting
of the Hollywood Women's Press Club, recently. Center, Rilla Page Palmborg, presi-
dent of the small and distinguished group of powerful correspondents for newspapers
and magazines. Right, Llewellyn Miller, editor of HOLLYWOOD Magazine, busy
checking up on the latest news of the studios during a two weeks' visit to the coast

grows hostile. Dirty cracks begin to fly.
Finally you make a dash for it and get
inside. Naturally you have to climb over
a row of people already seated and as
reward for your honest regret and em-
barrassment you hear someone mutter:
'Leave it to SoandSo to make an entrance!'
State your reaction."

I visualized the set-up and answered:
"I'd be sore as a boiled owl and show it!"

"No dice!" Cary answered. "You're a
Movie Star. People would say you were
being nasty and ungrateful for your fans'
affection for you. Now supposing you are
dashing from one place to another to keep
an important appointment for which you
already are late. An autograph hunter
blocks your way. You explain your
predicament. He turns on you and sneers:
'Okay, big shot, but don't forget, we're the
people who go to the movies!' What do
you say?"

"I'd say 'Stay out of the theatre for all I
care!' " I replied.

"Teh! Teh! That's wrong," Cary shook
his head. "You're a Movie Star. Can't
afford to offend the public. Now let's try
this one. You are driving home from
work, dead tired and stone sober. At an
intersection you accidentally lock bump-
ers with another car. The other driver
hops out, recognizes you and slaps a
$50,000 damage suit on you. By the time
it hits the front page you were drunk in
your car, hit a school bus and knocked
three nice old ladies out from under their
market baskets. What's the answer?"

"I don't know," I said helplessly. "I'd
probably bust him one in the nose!"

"Naughty, naughty," Cary said. "You're
a Movie Star. People would say you were
trying to get away with something because
you thought you were above rules and
regulations."

I began to get the idea of his little game
of Movie Star. An ingenious guy, that
Cary.

"Let's try another," he went on. "You
are dining in a public cafe. No sooner
do you sit down than staring eyes are
fastened on you from every direction.
Every move you make is gawped at in
such a rude and open way, you feel like
a caged freak in a circus sideshow. Mean-
time all your food gets cold while utter
strangers crash your table and say 'May
I have your autograph?' and then add in
a superior way 'I don't want it for myself,
of course; it's for my little boy.' "

"I'd stay home!" I exploded.

"My, my NO," Cary corrected me.
"You're a Movie Star. People would say
you were trying to pull a Garbo. Or how
about this one! You live an hour's drive
from the studio. You have to be there at
7 a.m. to dress and put on your make-up,
and you work until late evening, so time
of your own is as precious as it is scarce.
Naturally you have a lot of every-day
interests and problems. Lines to learn
for a radio show. Business matters per-
taining to your household to discuss. A
new script to read. A characterization to
ponder. Bills to check. You discover you

can gain two hours of time for those
interests each day by having a chauffeur
drive your car for you so you hire a
chauffeur. What's wrong with that
picture?"

Nothing was wrong, I said, it was com-
mon horse sense and in addition to help-
ing me, gave employment to another
person.

He looked at me with pity. "My dear
young lady," he said, "what a quaint idea!"

With that bulldog determination which
has got me into trouble before I agreed
to play another couple of rounds. I was
down but not out.

In the next hypothetical situation I was
on a brief vacation after a particularly
heavy 10 weeks of work. (He settled my
mild observation about acting not being
such hard work in short order, by the
way, by making me take his place under
the lights for exactly three minutes. Holy
smoke! Do you know those lights actually
are several times hotter and brighter per
watt than is used on hardened criminals
in a police third degree?)

"Let's say you go to some beautiful
island resort you always have wanted to
visit," he proposed. "You feel you have
earned a few weeks of much-needed rest
and relaxation. You think of yourself as
a private citizen, Joe Doakes, and not as
a celebrity. You consider you are off duty.
You soon change your mind, however, for
photographers and reporters catch you as
you dock. Okay, but you're back on duty.
Next you make your way through a crowd

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of fans. That puts you on exhibition and
so still on duty. Then the real merry-go-
round starts. Strangers stop you on the
street to ask for autographs and shake
your hand. Theatre managers press you
into personal appearances. Service clubs
invite you to speak at their luncheons.
Acceptance of social invitations from
complete strangers or bare acquaintances
who claim intimacy is made mandatory.
Wherever you go, the spotlight of attention
is focused on you and you must play your
role of celebrity. Whether you visit the
barber shop — I mean the beauty parlor —
for needed repairs or try to hide on the
loneliest stretch of beach you can find,
someone pops up from nowhere and levels
a camera at you. Every time you . . ."

"Hold it!" I interrupted. "Jeepers, I
thought this was supposed to be a vacation
and a rest! With that sort of a routine I'd
be WORKING an 18 hour shift every day.
Even the downtrodden prisoners in Siberia
get a better break than that. I'd tell
everyone to take a jump in the Pacific!"

"Wrong again!" Cary checked me.
"You're a Movie Star. You owe it to your
public. Besides, I thought you said you
would be flattered by all the attention."

He had me there.

"One last one," he coaxed. "You are
being interviewed by a perfect stranger
who will tell 100,000 other perfect strangers
all about you. Out of a clear sky she says:
How does your current sweetheart com-
pare with your former husband?' "

"I'd tell her it was none of her blankety-
blank business!" I said indignantly.
"Even my most intimate friends wouldn't
presume to ask a question like that."

"I'm surprised at you," he reproached
me. "You're a Movie Star. Behave like
that and you'd be branded 'Difficult' or
'Un- cooperative' or 'Antagonistic'."

I guess I wouldn't make a very good
Movie Star. I don't know the right
answers. Maybe there aren't any. As far
as I can see it is one of those you're sunk-
if-you-do-and-you're sunk-if-you-don't
things. Doesn't even look like it would be
much fun, the way the rules are laid out.

"That's looking on the dark side," he
answered. "It's really a great life . . .
marvelous business. If only people would
let it be just another business."

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Xame Town

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Hollywood Carroll

[Continued from page 32]

with the latest electric stove, a Frigidaire
big enough for a hotel, and the finest of
cooking utensils. John prides himself on
his ability to cook, steaks being his
specialty.

His home, by the way, is a replica of
his ancestral estate in Louisiana which
was burned down during the Civil War.
He has a picture of the original, and from
it came the plans for the home he now
occupies. In his bedroom is a portrait of
Jean Lafitte, the Louisiana pirate, and
John agrees that there's a strong resem-
blance.

Scattered throughout the various rooms
are 365 guns of assorted histories and cali-
bres. Being a collector of war curios, he
also has a huge collection of sabres, hel-
mets, bayonets and the like. The piece de
resistance, however, is a snub-nosed ma-
chine gun, a relic of the 1914 conflict. This
machine reposes between the two grand
pianos, a threat, undoubtedly, to any
player, or players, who might strike a false
key. Yes, sir, come the revolution and John
Carroll from his look-out on Look-out
Mountain, will be prepared to meet any
eventuality.

| Now that we've established Carroll
in his home and among his war curios,
let's dispense with station announcements
and give the young man a thorough going-
over.

First off, he's as much a collection of
contradictions as the house he lives in.
He is a giant in stature (six feet, four, and
200 pounds) . He has been on his own since
the age of ten. Almost before he was old
enough to wear long pants his itching feet
led him away from New Orleans to Hous-
ton, Texas. Here he managed to wrangle
an odd job now and then. When he wasn't
busy at these infrequent tasks he sold
newspapers, and when he wasn't doing
that he lived by his wits which must have
been pretty sharp because he stayed in
Houston five years!

It was when he landed in Liberty, Texas,
that he met his first big adventure, his first
true friend, and earned his first "big"
money.

"The afternoon I walked into Liberty,"
John said, "it was a tiny, country village.
At seven, the following morning it was a
boom town. Just that quick! Oil — gushers
of it! In a day or so they were paying pipe-
fitters twenty -five bucks a day! That was
a lot of jack and I wanted some of it, but
the oil boys kept shoving and pushing me
around, telling me to go home and wipe
my nose. Finally I got mad and hauled off
and lambasted a derrick man which would
have been fine and dandy only he lam-
basted back with so much vigor that I was
getting the worst of it. Fortunately for
me, another kid horned in and added
enough haymakers to turn the tide of
battle. You imagine my surprise when
this kid said his name was Carroll, and
John Carroll, at that!"

The two battered youngsters, bloody but
unbowed, bound up their cuts, consoled
each other for their black -and-blue

bruises, took stock of the situation, and
decided to join forces. They shook hands
on the deal — a deal that has lasted up to
the present and will continue for many
years to come.

This second John Carroll was just as
tall, just as lanky, just as eager for ad-
venture as the hero of this story. Today,
the second John Carroll is Movie John
Carroll's stand-in. He is known as Jack
Rose. The change of name was neces-
sary because directors out at M-G-M
found the two Carrolls too confusing.

"We worked in Liberty," says our
Movie J. C, "until we had saved up
enough dough to buy ourselves a couple
of decent suits of clothes and auto trans-
portation to the next town which was all
of 20 miles away. We worked in this
town long enough to buy a jaloppy, and
headed the rattletrap back to Liberty.
Eggs were selling at one buck each, milk
was two bucks a pint and hay thirty -five
bucks a bale. We thought that we could
clean up hauling supplies into Liberty.
We didn't do so bad at that. As a matter
of fact we did so well that we decided to
expand our delivery service. So we
meandered toward the border. And that's
where Old Man Disaster caught up with
us."

One night a group of Mexican officers
came a-knocking, a-knocking at their
chamber door.

"What," asked one, "are you delivering?"

"For whom," asked another, "are you
working?"

"It seems," says the first John Carroll
with a sly twinkle in his eyes, "that we
were in the gun-running business! We
didn't deny it! We tried to, at first, but
those grim-faced officer refused to be-
lieve it. They asked us a few more very
pertinent questions and then, having pity
on us because of our youth they let us go,
but not before they cautioned us severly
against renewing this highly specialized
branch of our delivery service. We
parted company shortly after this episode.
My pal left for San Diego and later en-
rolled at U.C.L.A. I headed for the East
Coast — and for more adventure."

Which he certainly got. Shipping out on
a freighter as an engine 'wiper he spent
the following two years visiting ports of
India, China, Guatemala, Russia, Germany,
France and England.

"I worked on four boats," he says,
"before I returned to America. I shipped
for home on the Guiseppe Verdi as assist-
ant cook which shows you how I was
progressing."

H All this time, of course, the string-
beany looking kid was filling out.
Those sea trips were hardening those
boyish muscles, making a man of him.
Oddly enough, the trips showed that he
had a voice. A singing voice, mind you!
"During a stop-over in Italy," John
reveals, "I wanted to taste a genuine
Italian meal in a genuine Italian cafe.
Finally I found one, went in, ordered the
best in the house and enjoyed every

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mouthful. Then came the hour of reckon-
ing. When I got ready to pay, I found my
pockets empty. I also found the pro-
prietor standing beside me and looking
mighty displeased about the whole busi-
ness. Finally I had what appeared to me
to be a very happy thought. 'I'll sing for
my supper,' I said as though granting him
a big favor. 'Just name a selection and I'll
sing it. With gestures, too, if you want.' "
After that one song the proprietor
offered him a job as soloist at the cafe! It
took the Italians to discover that he had
a fine baritone voice in the making. Three
years later he went back there to study

£1 "Homesickness got me down, finally,"
John says, "and I shipped for the
States. Once back in Houston, I settled
down to a job as porter in the Foley
Brothers' Dry Goods Store. I was about
eighteen then, big for my age, and tough-
ened to hard work. I had learned a good
many time-saving tricks in handling
freight and my 'portering' won the atten-
tion of the president of the store. A few
days after the visit of the Big Boss, I was
called into his office and rewarded with a
promotion — a job as floorwalker — but not
until I had lied about my age, which I
gave as twenty-seven, a barefaced, delib-
erate lie if there ever was one! But I got
away with it, and soon I was strutting up
and down the aisles feeling mighty import-
ant in my nice new dark blue suit and
white carnation!"

But you know how lies are. They have
a strange habit of catching up with you.
In John's case this catching up was par-
ticularly humiliating.

"I hadn't seen my mother for eight
years," he says, "and I was homesick for
a sight of her so, when I had saved up
enough money, I sent for her. The day
after she arrived I brought her down to
the store and introduced her to the presi-
dent. And guess what she said after the
introduction was over? 'My, my, my,' she
beamed at my boss, 'isn't John big for not
quite eighteen?' The lack of enthusiam
ty which this expose was accepted by my
boss was all too apparent and I knew,
without being told, that my floorwalking
days were over then and there. When I
arrived for work the next morning, sure
enough, there was a polite dismissal note,
and after reading it I walked to the nearest
exit."

■ John went back to New Orleans
shortly after getting canned and it
was lucky for him that he did so because
it was in his old home town that he met
Victor Chenais, a voice coach, who inter-
ested a philanthropist into putting up
enough funds to send John to Europe for
voice training.

"My habit of getting into scrapes," he
says, "almost cost me the trip. I wasn't
in New York six hours before I lost all
but $90 of my funds! I might have lost that,
but I got smart right away! I rushed down
to a steamship office and bought myself
a steerage ticket. By the time I arrived
in an Italian port I was practically down
to my last dime and so I hitch-hiked from
Genoa to Milan, arriving in the latter city

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flatter than the sole of a copper's boot!
But I arrived — and that was all that con-
cerned me. About the first person I met
in Milan was Sidney Raynor, now of the
Metropolitan Opera. Sidney took a lik-
ing to me, and every day, after taking his
singing lesson, he would come back to my
room and teach me. This went on for a
year and then . . ."

| And then up bobbed another John
Carroll escapade.

Someone tried to bomb the Italian king
and John was picked up by the police and
tossed into the hoosegow!

"They thought I was Russian," he
reveals, "and the more I yelled that I
wasn't, the louder they yelled that I was.
They refused to let me out of jail long
enough to get my passport. Finally I
remembered how a song had once won me
a free meal and a good job and I began to
sing — not for my supper this time, but for
my liberty. Before I got through every
Italian official in the jail was in front of
my cell door. An hour later I was a free
man!"

After singing his jailhouse blues John,
believing that discretion was, as always,
the better part of valor, decided to get as
far away as possible from the scene of his
incarceration. For the next few months
he traveled throughout Europe making a
fairly good living singing in cafes. The
highlight of this cafe-concert work arrived
when he had the privilege of singing be-
fore the Duke of Windsor, then the Prince
of Wales.

"Homesickness for America finally got
me again," he says, "and when I arrived
in the states I tried my hand at deep-sea
diving off the Florida coast, but I got fed
up on it after a couple of months and
headed for Hollywood. I had quite a tidy
sum of dough when I arrived, but it didn't
last long, all but $25 going for a tricky
auto I thought I couldn't do without. I
liked the boat so well I slept in it that
night!"

■ Our carolling Carroll hung around
Hollywood for a month or so, obtain-
ing little else for his stay than the well-
known brush-off. Getting tired of that,
he decided on more of the Florida deep-
sea diving to bolster his depleted bank-
roll. His acquaintance with Hollywood's
best dives must have helped him con-
siderably in this second under-sea venture
because he managed to earn enough to
build up a savings account. When his
diving business slacked off John went in
for steeple-jacking as well as dirt-track
auto racing.

"I forgot all about Hollywood," he
claims. "Those three jobs fulfilled my
need for excitement and danger and I was
having the time of my life."

He may, as he says, have forgotten
Hollywood, but movietown hadn't forgot-
ten him. After two years of hunting
treasure on the ocean bottom, painting
chimney stacks, and going round and
round on the dirt tracks, John received
a wire from Johnny Burch, an old friend
of his. Johnny was an RKO producer and
was making Hi, Gaucho and his wire
promised J. C. a movie job.

"They gave me a singing test," he says,
"the day I arrived and I passed with
flying colors. Then someone asked me
if I was an athlete and I said, 'Well, I don't
know. But do you see that window?'
And with that I jumped through the
darned thing — and landed on my feet one
story below! Crazy? Sure! But I got the
part!"

The first day on the set was to be spent
on a fencing sequence and the director
explained that a fencing expert had been
provided to teach him.

"And no sooner was I told that," John
says, "than in walked the 'instructor' —
none other than the John Carroll of my
oil boom days back in Texas! We've been
together ever since!"

Q But John's initiation into movies
somehow didn't jell. He didn't know
any of the "big names" in pictures which
left him on the outside looking in so far
as his film career was concerned. And
few, if any, of the "big names" knew him,
a fact that was brought to his attention
in a most distressing manner.

"My pal and I were sitting in the RKO
commissary one day," so John relates the
story, "and I overheard several men at
the executive table discussing me. The
gist of the conversation seemed to be that,
as an actor, I'd make a mighty good hod
carrier. When I found out later that the
man who had said that was B. B. Kahane,
president of the studio, I packed up my
turkey and left Hollywood."

Six months later he returned. At dinner
his first night in town he was introduced
to Mr. Kahane.

"But it was not the same man I had seen
at the executive table and it was then
that I realized that I had been the victim
of a rib. I told Mr. Kahane about it. He
asked me to come over to his office the
next morning and between us we'd fix up
a new contract. I couldn't keep the ap-
pointment that day, which was a big
mistake on my part for when I arrived
the morning of the second day I found
out that Mr. Kahane had resigned!"

Hollywood by then had gotten under
John's skin and he decided to stick around
and free-lance. Fortunately for John,
Old Man Opp began knocking right away
and our free-lancer found himself work-
ing in remakes of the old Douglas Fair-
banks thrillers. Then came Only Angels
Have Wings a picture that brought him
to the attention of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
This studio signed him to a long-term
contract and gave him his first important
lead opposite Ann Sothern in Congo
Maisie.

"I've settled down now," John insist:;.
"Adventure has no place in an actor's
life. No more of this deep-sea diving,
racing, steeple-jacking, roaming, or thrills
for a living. California is my home. I get
all the excitement I want by trying to
prove to myself that maybe I'm an actor!"

No more roaming? No more adventure?
Oh, yeah? Well what about that machine-
gun between your two pianos? And those
365 guns and sabres and so on you got
piled in the corners of every room of your
house, John? Come the revolution — and
then what?

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What Happens to
Shirley9 s^Money ?

[Continued from page 34]

her financial future carefully and well.

Let's first consider what has been done
to safeguard her fortune.

Shirley, Number One juvenile actress,
is reputed to earn in the neighborhood of
$750,000 a year. This is income from her
picture-making and the various endorse-
ments of foods, toys, dresses and allied
commercial products.

Not one cent of the money she earns is
touched by her parents, although by law
they are entitled to a goodly percentage
of it. Mrs. Temple is paid a studio salary
for her very important contributions
during the making of Shirley's pictures.
Her father, earns a substantial income as
banker and business counsellor. Not even
the income from Shirley's investments is
spent. That, too, is re-invested.

With a yearly income as great as this,
it is natural to question why Shirley will
have only a million dollars at the end of
her current studio contract. But as Mrs.
Temple explains, the days of great
fortunes are past. Taxes take an
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Shirley's money is invested in a variety
of ways. She has a number of trust funds,
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The trust funds are staggered, so that
they will mature over a long period of
years. Shirley will be fifty before she re-
ceives the benefits from the longest term
fund.

There is a secret board which sits in
consultation over Shirley's many affairs.
This board consists of a famous lawyer,
a banker, and Shirley's father. The three
men must share the same opinion regard-
ing the soundness and advisability of an
investment before it is made.

There are provisions to perpetuate this
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Shirley's oldest brother, by many years
her senior, will replace his father event-
ually. He will know enough of Shirley's
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sters dine with their governesses, are for-
bidden contact with strange children
usually, are carried along as so' much
precious but troublesome baggage.

"I've heard many mothers boast that
they never fail to spend half an hour a
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all over the world. Send 6c in stamps TO-
DAY for Illustrated Booklet, "How to Re-
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D.J. Mahler Co. Inc., Dept. 5EE , Providence, R.I.

KIDNEYS ~
MUST REMOVE
EXCESS ACIDS

Help IS Miles of Kidney Tubes
Flush Out Poisonous Waste

If you have an excess of acids in your blood, your 15
miles of kidney tubes may be over-worked. These tiny
filters and tubes are working day and night to help
Nature rid your system of excess acids and poisonous
waste. . ..

When disorder of kidney function permits poison-
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ging backache, rheumatic pains, leg pains, loss of pep
and energy, getting up nights, swelling, pufimess
under the eyes, headaches and dizziness. Frequent or
scanty passages with smarting and burning some-
times shows there is something wrong with your
kidneys or bladder. .

Kidneys may need help the same as bowels, so ask
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will help the 15 miles of kidney tubes flush out poison-
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"That isn't possibly enough time in
which to give a child mental and emo-
tional health. It isn't enough time to build
a foundation of love for the years to come.
It doesn't give a child the reserves of
stability needed later on in life.

"Shirley has never lacked love. We've
given her an abundance of it. When she
was even a tiny baby, and her bedtime
was seven o'clock or earlier, I would fre-
auently keep her up a little later, if Mr.
Temple was delayed in coming home.
For I felt that Shirley was entitled not
only to my companionship and my care
and my love, but also to the companion-
ship and the love of her father.

"In the old days, Shirley was given her
supper early, and then the two boys and
Mr. Temple and I had our dinner. After-
wards, Mr. Temple and the boys would
do the dishes while I got Shirley ready
for bed. But the lights were never out in
her room until her father came up to help
tuck her in.

"I am not trying to prove that we're
perfect parents. There are millions of
children who get exactly the same care
and love that Shirley does. I only want
to emphasize the fact that Shirley has
never been deprived of that personal at-
tention which seems the inherent right of
the average child, and yet is frequently
denied to the child of wealth.

"There is such a thing as a mother and
a child being together too much. I have
tried to avoid that by occasionally leaving
Shirley to her own devices for a whole
afternoon. She draws, she reads, she helps
the cook bake cookies. This absence from
each other is good for both of us.

"Shirley has had all the love and care
parents can give, but we have never
robbed her of her right to be independent,
free, and self-reliant.

gj "Mr. Temple and I recognize that
there are peculiar problems which
parents of a child star, face. Those prob-
lems are primarily concerned with com-
panionship and friendships of children her
own age. I think the friendships a person
makes in childhood and which continue
through life, are vital to happiness. It
gives us a sense of solidity for which there
is no substitute.

"I, personally, feel that my own life has
been enriched by the friends I've had
since I went to school. I want Shirley to
have that, too.

"Keeping this well in mind, we have
looked forward to our weeks in the
Islands. We've been going to Honolulu for
several years, and Shirley has met the
children of the permanent residents there.

"With these youngsters Shirley has
formed firm friendships, and I'm quite
certain they will continue through her
entire life.

"I feel it necessary that Shirley have a
great deal of contact with children who
can quickly forget that they have seen
her on the screen. Fortunately, they don't
think of her as a motion picture star, but
as Shirley Temple, who plays in the
movies. They're very casual about what
she does in Hollywood.

"During our weeks on the Island we

keep week-end open house. Dozens of
children, of all races and creeds — ranging
in age from two to eighteen years — spend
all day Saturday and Sunday with her.
Many a time there are as many as sixty
youngsters gathered at one time. The ice-
cream and cake and fruit-juice situation
is always handled by Shirley.

"For entertainment there are ball
games, hide and seek, tag, and a variety
of other games in which all the children
join. Shirley has a wonderful time.

"Once in a while Shirley gives a
luncheon and then she has a smaller group
of friends. There are about eight young-
sters with whom Shirley visits back and
forth constantly.

| "I have no special concern that
Shirley will be taken in by the unkind
people as she grows older. I believe tha
intuition which has made her a fine
actress will serve her in sensing disloyalty
and insincerity.

"Even now she automatically becomes
casual with people who don't ring true.
You know, there's an old saying that you
can't fool a dog or a child.

"I believe Shirley will retain that un-
erring intuition into womanhood, and will
avoid many heartaches thereby.

"I have no fears, no urgent anxieties
for Shirley's future — no more, that is,
than every mother feels for her child.

"We've done everything possible to
make her adequate for life. I think she'll
have no difficulty in making necessary
adjustments to the world as it is, as she
grows older.

"We can only see a certain distance into
the future, of course. By giving Shirley
a normal background and a solid family
life, we have given her the equipment to
help her solve adult problems.

"Playing in pictures has always been
a game for her. It has been fun. But if,
when she is fifteen or sixteen, it is no
longer a thrilling adventure, she might
want to turn to art or to music as her
profession.

"Shirley is considerably advanced for
her years. She'll be in Junior High School
next year. 'Imagine,' her brothers remark,
'THAT in High School!' They think it's
too funny for words.

"No matter how things work out as far
as her career is concerned, Shirley will be
given a comprehensive education. College,
certainly. And other subjects — music, art,
languages, dancing if she wants it.

"Money is never enough for happiness.
It's what is in your head and your heart
that counts.

"In every possible way, we are trying
to equip Shirley for a happy and full life!"

I, who have known Shirley from the
time she was a cuddly baby, believe her
future is safe, because financially, she is
protected, and emotionally and intel-
lectually, she will be prepared to meet
all problems as they arise.

Does that answer your questions?

n:xt

MONTH

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Bitch Benny Bides Again, and
here are scenes of some of his
mad exploits in his new film

Above, off to the races
with Rita Roper, Benny
- and Olive Kesner. Below,
Rochester with colossal
Carmichael, each trying
to understand the other

Above, Ellen Drew as a
savage maid, and Buckaroo
Benny as a hoss-opry star.
Below, Rochester seems to
doubt that song is there

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Maybelline Cream -form
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ftU

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make tobacco better than ever

Actual color photographs. Before the
harvest — inspection of a crop of better-
than-ever tobacco grown at Willow
Springs, N. C, by U. S. Government
methods. (Below) H. H. Scott looks
over some fine leaf after it's been cured.

...and Luckies always buy the finer grades/'
says H. H. Scott, 12 years an independent buyer

Here's why we ask: "Have you tried a Lucky lately?"

1. The world has never known finer tobacco than American farmers
have grown in recent years with the scientific help of Uncle Sam.

2. Among independent tobacco experts — buyers, auctioneers and
warehousemen — Luckies are the 2 to 1 favorite. Experts like
H. H. Scott point out that Luckies have bought the choicer grades
of these better-than-ever tobaccos. So Luckies are better than ever!

3» These finer tobaccos have been aged from 2 to 4 years, and
have been further mellowed by the "Toasting" process, which
takes out certain throat irritants found in all tobacco.

We believe that no smoker who has not tried Luckies lately
can know how fine a modern cigarette can be. So try them for a
week. Then you'll know why . . . WITH MEN WHO KNOW
TOBACCO BEST— IT'S LUCKIES 2 to 1

* -

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ONLY 5 CENT MOVIE MAGAZINE IN THE WORLD

GINGER ROGERS

PRIZES

ENTER

GINGER ROGERS
CONTEST

PAGE 36

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A New Easter Bonnet can Halt a man
but a Winning Smile can Hold him!

Your smile is yours alone. ..far too precious to risk!
Help guard it with Ipana and Massage!

THE EYE-CATCHING smartness of a new-
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For no girl can make a lasting impression
with a dull and dingy smile. Don't let your-
self in for this tragic mistake. Never neg-
lect your teeth and gums. Never dismiss
lightly that warning tinge of "pink" on
your tooth brush.

Never Ignore "Pink Tooth Brush"

If your tooth brush "shows pink"— see your
dentist at once! It may not indicate anything
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His verdict may simply be "more work for
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B 456128

' /

JUNE, 1940

Vol. 29 No. 6

MBHgaHH

LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor
Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Jeanette's Bright Ideas (Jeanefre MacDonald) ..by Llewellyn Miller 1 9

Hollywood's Strangest Policies by James F. Scheer 21

Edison by Jessie Henderson 22

Lillian Russell by Irving Cummings 24

Adventures With a 20 Mule Team by E. J. Smithson 26

Turnabout by Serena Bradford 28

The Man Who "No's" Everyone by Beth Brown 30

Heroes Don't Die by Kolma Flake 32

The Career of Mrs. Chips (Greer Garson) by John R. Franchey 34

All About Albert (Eddie Albert) by Ed Jonesboy 42

All Around the Town 66

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

The Show Goes On by The Editor 6

Hollywood Newsreel ...by Duncan Underhill 8

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 16

Happy Birthday to You by Ann Vernon 44

Movie Crossword 5 1

Picnic De Luxe by Betty Crocker 54

MOVIELAND TOUR: Here's Your Chance to See Inside Hollywood.. 14
CONTEST: Play Silly-Dilly with Ginger Rogers. Win

Valuable Prizes! 36

3sSE

■&>Ml

Joan Fontaine, whose striking performance
as the unsophisticated bride in Rebecca
has placed her among the top-ranking stars

RALPH DAIGH, Manasing Editor

GORDON FAWCETT, Hollywood Manner

CHARLES RHODES, Staff PhotoSrapher

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc., lion West Broadway, Louisville. Ky. Printed in TJ. S. A. Entered as second-class matter at the post
office at Louisville, Ky., under the act of .March ,1, 1879, with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 1940 by Fawcett Publications. Inc. Elliott Odell, Advertising Director.
General offices, Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Trademark registered in TJ. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and possessions; $1.00 in Canada;
foreign subscriptions $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich, Conn. Single issues five
cents. Advertising forms close on the 18th of third month preceding date of issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence concerning subscrip-
tions to Fawcetl Building, Greenwich, Conn. Advertising offices: New York, 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 300 N. Michigan Ave.; San Francisco. Simpson-Reilly, 1014 Buss Building;
Los Angeles, Simpson-Reilly, Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices, 1501 Broadway, New York City; Hollywood office, S555 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. California.

A LIFETIME LIVED IN A SINGLE DAYI

Vivien Leigh returns to you — beautiful, tender,
appealing and talented beyond description — in a
role which might have been created for her alone
...A girl whose emotions mirrored the chaos of the
world around her . . . grasping fervently, eagerly
at the love that belongs to youth ... Robert Taylor
attains new dramatic stature as the man who shares
this absorbing romance with her. Together, they
create an emotional experience you'll never forge?.

VIVIEN LEIGH ROBERT TAYLOR

in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's

WATERLOO BRIDGE

with LUCILE WATSON • VIRGINIA FIELD
MARIA OUSPENSKAYA • C. AUBREY SMITH

A Mervyn LeRoy Production
Screen play by S. N. Behrman, Hans Rameau, and George Froeschel

Based on the play "Waterloo Bridge" by Robert E. Sherwood
Directed by MERVYN LEROY • Produced by SIDNEY FRANKLIN

iwwiovvvvvvvviavvvwvvwvivviov^

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I offer you, says Lady Esther, a wonder-
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idSI*i:M7*cM«^l

By THE EDITOR

■ We are justly proud of the contest on
page 36, and, if you've never played

Silly-Dilly before, you will be fascinated,
even if you don't win a prize, though they
are well worth your best efforts. When
the prizes reached this office, and were
spread in a glittering pile all over the desk,
they caused no little sorrow and anguish.
All of the women on the staff of Holly-
wood Magazine became glum and bitter,
and some few went home five minutes
early, slamming the door as they left. You
see, all of the world may enter this con-
test . . . except employees of Fawcett
Publications. And at this minute you
could cut the envy that radiates from the
staff with a knife.

The illustrations on page 36 do not do
real justice to the prizes. Nothing less than
full color reproduction would. But they
are Ginger Rogers' own selection, so don't
fail to read how you may win a gift directly
from her.

■ The last time we saw Spencer Tracy
was on the set at M-G-M when he was

filming a difficult scene for Edison, the Man.
Tracy is one of the few players in Holly-
wood who seldom wears make-up, and for
this part of the film the nearest he went
to cosmetics was soap and water. Of
course, when he plays Edison late in the
inventor's life, he needed some lining
pencil and some of the stuff they use to
make hair look grey. But, when he was
playing Edison as a man in his thirties,
Tracy abandoned any attempt whatever
at heightening their striking resemblance.
That will account, in small part, for the
unusual realism of his performance. But,
more important, were the months of read-
ing and research that the actor put into
his part. "Once you start reading about
Edison, you can't stop," Tracy said. "And
then you start talking about him, and once
you start talking, you can't stop. It is un-
believable what that man did. Did you
realize . . ." Half an hour later he was
still going strong on stories about the great
inventor.

That is the real reason you will find the
fascinating story on page 22 about Edison
and about the film which is telling the
story of his life. Spencer Tracy would not
let us leave the studio until we had prom-
ised to assign a writer to the picture.
"Don't put anything about me in the
story," Tracy insisted. "There won't be
room, and besides, the character over-
shadows everything else in the film. Peo-
ple ought to know more about the ex-
traordinary mind that made possible the
lights they turn on in their houses, the
music they hear on their phonographs,
the movies they see in their theatres."

Tracy's job was doubly difficult in that
many members of Edison's family, many
people who remember him well still are
living. That the film is anything less than
an outstanding success with them cannot
be doubted. A special preview was run for
Secretary of the Navy Charles Edison

just before he joined the fleet for the Pa-
cific maneuvers, and he gave Tracy's per-
formance enthusiastic endorsement.

S Mickey Rooney is a fine escort. Judy
Garland goes to the best parties. So
they knew their subject when they began
comparing notes on how evenings can be
spoiled. Fortunately, Kay Proctor was
there, and she took the notes that pro-
duced a hilarious set of rules on behavior
when both Mickey and Judy started to
complain. Fortunately, Charlie Rhodes
was there, too, and he snapped a set of
wildly funny pictures when they began
to act out the things that made them mad.
This is one of the funniest stories in Miss
Proctor's series, and is scheduled in time
for those summer parties.

■ Our favorite extra, Mr. E. J. Smithson,
had a worse time than usual in get-
ting his story for the July issue of Holly-
wood Magazine. As soon as he came
limping in from the borax mines, where
he learned a lasting distrust and hatred
for mules, he was summoned for another
exacting job. He was feeling pretty sorry
for himself, after standing up to the type-
writer which he had placed on the man-
telpiece to write the story, Adventures
With a Twenty Mule Team, which you will
find on page 26. So when Twentieth Cen-
tury-Fox offered him a chance to play in
Earthbound, he accepted with alacrity, be-
ing under the impression that he was going
to play a ghost. "Nobody can kick a ghost,"
he wrote happily. "Because he simply
isn't there."

But fate has it in for our favorite ex-
tra. He didn't play a ghost. Warner Bax-
ter plays that part, and our tragic Mr.
Smithson is still standing up to his type-
writer, looking over his shoulder fear-
fully, too. Don't miss his report next
month.

Frank Morgan feeds famous Pete, the
penguin, who plays a humorous sequence
in his picture, Hooray, Fm Alive

Bette Davis/j Charles BoyEiy

rom the matchless pages
of this brilliant best- seller

comes a new chapter in film
achievement! With all
the incomparable art
istry- at their com
mand these two
great stars bring/
to life the deep

/emotions]
burn
'every excigj
word of

Youll say when you see her **
^nne«e"isaro,eheaven-sen ,

iust for Bette Davis! And you n
know,too,whyCharlesBoyer

had to return all the way
from France to play the j|
I impassioned Duo. For
\ so many reasons th,s
\. is the drama to be
ranked in your
memory

"Vjsjttijhe

Included In the notable supporting cast are

JEFFREY LYNN • BARBARA O'NEIL

Virginia Weidler - Henry Daniell

Walter Hampden • George Coulouris

<J1N ANATOLE LITVAK PRODUCTION

Screen Play by Casey Robinson . Music by Max Steine.
A Warner Bros. -First National Picture

ALLTHIS AND
HEAVEN TOCr

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■:WHT4VI«M»B:i4VMt14^1

By DUNCAN UNDERBILL

H Miss Carole Lombard is having some
difficulties with tradesmen around the
boulevards because of her unorthodox
method of parking her car.

If there is no space available at the
curb and no parking lot handy, Miss Lom-
bard runs her dashing red roadster ever
so delicately up onto the sidewalk and
leaves it there until she has concluded her
errands in the neighborhood.

Cops and tradesmen, perceiving the
"C.G." on the doors and the Clark Gable
registration certificate on the steering post,
are loath to take drastic measures. But
they feel pretty drastic, nevertheless.

Miss Lombard is as considerate as she
can be when she leaves her car on the
pavement, always allowing space for pe-
destrians to pass in single file.

51 By inadvertence, Robert Benchley is
now creating, in Personal History,
quite the most elegant drunken news-
paperman the screen has ever known.

Mr. Benchley was one of the six writers
assigned by Walter Wanger to turn out the
screen play of the latest Alfred Hitchcock
thriller. His chief contribution was the
character of an American newspaperman
who has been in London twenty-five years
and never written anything but an ex-
pense account.

Hitchcock and Wanger agreed that the
part was a little gem. But they also de-
cided nobody could play it except Mr.
Benchley. With some reluctance the

humorist-critic-boulevardier accepted the
job, with the proviso that he could dress
as he pleased.

All very well — but when the wardrobe
department found it was the eminent
world-traveler and bon-vivant Robert
Benchley, they were costuming, they
turned him out somewhat like Anthony
Eden.

Result: In his very first scene Mr.
Benchley was so awed by his resplendent
garments, and the excruciating wit of the
lines he had written for himself that he
made seven straight fluffs.

H Returning to her studio after a per-
sonal appearance in New York and a
short layoff in Miami, Dorothy Lamour
found two curious documents awaiting
her.

One was a protest from fellow players
over the fact that she had had her tonsils
removed in New York. The group of sig-
natories were Hollywood wise guys who
profess to take seriously the good-natured
feud between Hollywood and New York
about which is the ideal site for making
movies.

The manifesto said: "At least one Cali-
fornia surgeon must have been qualified
to perform your operation. While those
New York sawbones had you down they
might have literally cut your throat."

The other communique was from a vet-
eran hobo named "Seldom Seen," tem-
porarily a non-paying guest of the city

— Fawcctt Photo by Charles Rhodes
Table companions at the Screen Actors' Guild dinner were George Raft and Norma
Shearer, Gary Cooper and his wife. It niust be an amusing story George is telling

The Story of
a Love Affair

a-tcftetwie!

It's a real, human story. It's
got real love in it — the kind
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then bursts out in a flame of
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than anything in the world.
And it's got real drama— so
true and powerful it won
the Pulitzer Prize as a play.
Don't miss OUR TOWN.

SOL LESSER presents

TOW

from the Pulitzer Prize Play by Thornton Wilder

WILLIAM

MARTHA

HOLDEN • SCOTT

FAY BAINTER • BEULAH BONDI
THOMAS MITCHELL • GUY KIBBEE
STUART ERWIN • FRANK CRAVEN

Directed by SAM WOOD ("Goodbye Mr. Chips")
Released Thru United Artists

Coming soon to your favorite theatre

''What, no

whales?" said

Jerry, laughing at

my empty creel. "Well,

y just quit jiggling your rod

,-* for a minute and sweeten your

temper with a taste of Beeman's.

That's real flavor, my lady. Refreshing

enough tochange any fisherman'sluck!"

"Beeman's!" I cried, "jerry, you angel
— you know I can't resist it. Beeman's
flavor is so luscious! So smooth and
tangy. Refreshing as a breeze at sun-
down. And look — !" But Jerry was
already reeling in my line — with a
whale of a catch ! I'll say Beeman's
brings me luck!

— Fazvcctt Photo by Charles Rhodes
Ralph Bellamy autographs a drum head while who do you think looks on? No, it
isn't James Cagney. It is Spike Jones on the Gulf Oil Broadcast. Startling likeness?

of Denver. Mr. S.S. asked for one of
Dottie's discarded sarongs to use for a
bindle bag.

Not being up on her hobo terminology,
Miss Lamour took the letter to Victor
Schertzinger, a director who was once a
deadhead globe-trotter himself.

"Mr. Seen," Schertzinger explained,
"would like to have one of your mention-
ables in which to wrap all his earthly pos-
sessions. Alter he rolls his canned heat,
his press clippings and other valuables
in it, he will sling it on the end of a stick
over his shoulder."

Miss Lamour is still pondering a nice
way to refuse without alienating a fan.

@H Mary Martin is the latest inhabitant
of the commodious Paramount dog-
house. After having been extensively and
expensively built up as an operetta in-
genue in The Great Victor Herbert, she
was expected to remain in that profes-
sional role.

But on a recent sneak visit to New
York, without the studio's knowledge, she
recorded six of the hottest Cole Porter
songs containing very knowing and so-
phisticated lyrics. The law is being laid
down that Mary Martin strip-teases are
out, even verbal strip-teases.

3 Cecil B. DeMille was visiting a neigh-
bor in Laughlin Park when the neigh-
bor's five-year-old daughter refused to
say her prayers.

Thinking it would impress her, the paf-
cnts invited The Great Man into the roopa
to supervise. In the face of the child's
continued stubbornness, DeMille offered
to help her. She sat straight up in b^d,

and attention,

director

all eyes
began:

"Now I lay me down to sleep . . ."

He went right on through to the end
and concluded with a most impressive
"Amen."

The little girl looked up at him solemnly
and, remembering his radio sign-off, said:

"This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good-
night to you from Hollywood."

A little later the same prayer-saying
difficulty developed with the family's
seven-year-old boy. Mrs. DeMille was
delegated to assist him.

"Our Father Who art in heaven," she
began.

"Explain it to me," said the kid.

"Our Father refers to the Father of all
mankind," Mrs. DeMille expoOnttsrr- pa —
tiently. "Heaven is the kingdom which
all of us hope to reach after death."

Suddenly the boy reached out, clutched
her necklace and demanded, "Are those
real pearls?"

Brushing off the interruption, she con-
tinued her explanation of the prayer, right
to the end.

"And Amen,' " she concluded, "means
'Let it be done.' "

"Okay," said the kid, cocking his thumb
and pointing a finger at her gun-wise.
"Stick 'em up."

■ Although they don't register them
with the Patent Office in Washing-
ton, every Hollywood director has his own
special hall-mark that appears on every
film he makes.

Alfred Hitchcock, director of The 39
Steps andTHe Lady Vanishes, always plays

NO MATTER HOW

SLEEPY I AM AT BEDTIME

/ NEVER NEGLECT MY

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ITS EASY TO WORK
UP A RICH ACTIVE
LATHER WITH

LUX SOAP

STAR OF WARNER BROS.
"It All Came True"

,1X

I PAT IT LIGHTLY
IN, NEXT RINSE
WITH WARM
WATER-HEN A
DASH OF COOL

^n»

Take the screen
stars' tip. try this

**#

THEN PAT TO DRY.

IT LEAVES SKIN

FEELING SILKY

SMOOTH -THE WAY

IT OUGHT TO BE !

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So let Hollywood's fa-
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'<K SC

en Stars use Lux Toilet Sol

Gloria Jean takes her little sister, Bonnie,
for a tour of Universal lot 'where she is
completing her new picture, If I Had My
Way, in which Bing Crosby also sings

the least conspicuous bit in his own pic-
tures. In Rebecca he is a bobby who tells
the villain he must jolly well move along,
in one of the closing sequences.

Mitch Leisen, Tay Garnett, William K.
Howard and Gregory Ratoff also manage
to muscle their way into their own films.
The only time Leisen failed to leave his
stamp on his product was in Remember
the Night. He cut himself out of that one
because he was not up to his usual his-
trionic standard, but left his hat in to
keep the franchise. Sterling Holloway
wore it. Ratoff is the only one of the
above-named quintet who insists on a
meaty part for himself.

William A. Wellman, producer-director
at Paramount, starts almost all his pic-
tures with children appearing first on the
screen. The Light That Failed, his latest,
shows Ronald Colman and Muriel Angelus
in adolescence, with Ronald Sinclair and
Sarita Wooten playing the roles. Beau
Geste and Men with Wings started the
same way. The first scene in Nothing
Sacred was a mob of pickaninnies at New
York's city hall.

Mike Curtiz has his characters eat a
full meal early in the picture. The Hun-
garian language-mangier attempts in this
way to show that his characters are down-
to-earth people.

In every picture directed by William
Keighley, one of the top characters gets
spotlighted by a shaft of natural light:
sunlight pouring through a window or
moonlight through an arch.

If the people of the play walk miles and
miles with the camera following them it's
an Anatole Litvak production, and if both
characters and mood are obscured by fog,
credit the picture to John Ford. Remem-
ber The Hurricane and The Informer?

There just is no fog in the locale of Stage-
coach but Ford achieved the same effect
with clouds of dust and a snowstorm.

Cecil B. DeMille has switched his trade-
mark from bathtubs to brigades of troops,
varying from Roman legionnaires to
Northwest Mounties.

Lloyd Bacon, one of the Warner stal-
warts, can be spotted by the crescendo of
his closing reels. If everybody on the
screen is yelling and gesticulating all
through the last reel, you can get big odds
that it's a Bacon creation you're viewing.

William Dieterle never fails to include
a scene in which his chief character does
an imitation of Rodin's Thinker, with more
wrinkles in his brow than an elephant's
ankle.

Edward H. Griffith and Frank Lloyd
manage to get boat scenes or sequences
into all their product. Griffith managed to
smuggle two boats into the interior of
Africa in Safari and Lloyd, by some dark
magic, managed to wedge a shot of a clip-
per ship into Wells Fargo, a tale of the
pony express.

Josef von Sternberg is crazy for rail-
road trains in his pictures; James Hogan
must have at least one shot of a clock for
luck, and Ted Reed delights in chimes and
carillons, whether they fit the plot or not.
In Those Were the Days, Reed has William
Holden run amuck with a big courthouse
gong.

Ernest Schoedsack prefers animal ac-
tors to humans. Rouben Mamoulian can't
do without a cat in his shooting script. In
City Streets he used two, on which the
camera was trained during a long passage
of dialogue between the principals.

Mark Sandrich's heroes are always
bashful boys. Before Jack Benny current
series, Fred Astaire was the diffident pro-
tagonist of this Sandrich fetish.

Henry Koster, Deanna Durbin's direc-
tor, is crazy for ballroom scenes and Victor
Schertzinger is daffy about picnics, par-

— Fazvcett Photo by Cliarlcs Rhodes
This talented twosome is frequently
seen around Hollywood lately. Olivia
de Havilland and James Stewart gaily
dressed for the Screen Actors' Ball

ticularly the South Sea Island kind with
side dishes of hula girls.

Mervyn LeRoy won't wind up a picture
until he has inserted his favorite number,
62, in some key spot where it will smack
all beholders in the eye.

Sweet music supplies the background
for every Edmund Goulding picture, even
if the director has to compose it himself,
as he did for Dark Victory.

Henry Hathaway inevitably introduces
some savage weapon, savagely used. In
Spawn of the North the boys dueled with
harpoon guns; in The Real Glory with
bolos. Triumph Over Pain, his next, offers
the surgeon's scalpel as a weapon.

A staircase is the trademark of Ernest
Lubitsch, who uses them as settings for
love scenes. And Lubitsch also uses "the
Lubitsch angle," which nobody has yet
been able to define.

— Fazvcett Photo by Charles Rhodes'

A white wool cape is Elsa Lanchester'
choice for a spring wrap while Charlf
Laughton contents himself with a sea-
at the Hollywood opening of Rebec

conditioned Pullmans. This new feature
has been added at no extra cost.

The scenic wonders you will see include
the Ten Thousand Lakes region of Min-

■i£ota , ijjjfafj -t^p J^mericaji^R «■ "kies^'

P TWo^questions you'lrrast not ask Jane
Wyman are: "Did you make this salad
yourself,* my dear?" and "I adore your
hair-do. Won't you tell me how you get
that effect?"

Two of Miss Wyman's bitterest memo-
ries of Hollywood are of the days when
she was a professional salad-maker at
Manning's, a popular Boulevard coffee-
shop, and of the term she spent as an ap-
prentice beautician.

Her part-time salary at the coffee-shop
was $7 a week, most of which she ap-
plied to a course in hair-dressing. She
eventually was taken on by a beauty shop,
at no salary, to learn the business.

"But after a few weeks," she relates
wistfully, "the boss decided I wasn't even
worth the salary I wasn't getting."

■ Mr. Alfred Cerf, who used to be an
architect and subsequently became
one of the more restless Palm Beach play-
boys, has set himself up in Sunset Strip
as a designer of individualistic shoes.

His customers are among the Hollywood
upper crust, but he doesn't pamper them
because his little shop is run on a short
budget and extra work means a loss on an
individual transaction.

On one of the balmiest days of the
Hollywood spring, Mr. Cerf and his Mexi-
can craftsmen were busily engaged in
turning out for Vivien Leigh one of the
balmiest pairs of spring slippers ever de-
signed.

While they were absorbed in their work
Greta Garbo came in and looked around,
her head carefully lowered to avoid recog-
nition. Despite this, everybody in the shop
spotted her at once.

After fifteen minutes of roaming about,
Miss Garbo suddenly lifted her head and
revealed her celebrated features. Nobody
was noticeably stunned.

Slightly peeved, Miss Garbo said:

"I am Miss Garbo."

"Howdy-do," Mr. Cerf acknowledged.
"But if that means you're going to ask for
home fittings, we can't afford the time."

W Hoss-race fever has some mighty odd
by-products in Hollywood, as this
cockeyed incident will illustrate.

Two self-respecting young writers
named Tom Langan and'Roy Chanslor got
together one afternoon and decided to
write an original movie on the odd chance
that they might stick some studio with it.

Having read all the Hollywood folklore,
they decided to write on a subject they
neither knew nor suspected anything
about: horse-racing. They had never been
to a race track. They didn't know the
theory of race track betting. So they had
no preconceived prejudices to hamper
them when they outlined their yarn.

They braided together a suitable chain
cf circumstances involving a girl, some
boys and some hosses, and agreed that
they had something right readable, if in-
accurate.

[Continued on page 58]

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Joan Blondell and Dick Powell on the patio of their beautiful Hollywood home
in which they will give a cocktail party for this year's Movieland Tourists.
Paramount is starring the popular couple in a picture titled / Want a Divorce

Here's Your Chance To See

INSIDE HOLLYWOOD

M A 1940 Fawcett Movieland Tour ticket
is the key that will open the door of
Hollywood for you. A tour ticket can be
your passport to the glamorous region
known as "inside Hollywood!"

Those who are lucky enough to par-
ticipate in a Fawcett Movieland Tour do
not merely see Hollywood as it looks from
the outside. Members of the Movieland
Tour go behind the scenes and have the
rare opportunity of seeing the Movie
Colony from an insider's angle.

For example, here is what awaits mem-
bers of the 1940 Movieland Tour:

A glorious trip to the Coast through
some of America's most beautiful scenery.

A sight-seeing tour of Hollywood.

A trip through the great Paramount
Studios.

A visit to a set on which a Paramount
Picture is being made.

A cocktail party at the home of two
famous and popular stars.

And these are just the highlights of the

trip. There are many additional features.
This year the Movieland Tour leaves
Chicago on July 14. Members will board
modern, up-to-date cars, and the entire
trip will be made in comfortable, air-

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has been added at no extra cost.

The scenic wonders you will see include
the Ten Thousand Lakes region of Min-
nesota, the beautiful American Rockies,
Mt. Shasta, Puget Sound, and many others.
The Movieland Tour will arrive in Holly-
wood on July 20.

Trained guides will show you all the
highlights of the film colony, point out the
homes of the stars, the various studios, etc.

A luncheon at the Paramount Commis-
sary, known as the "International Cafe,"
where the stars eat, has been arranged.
After this comes a thrilling trip through
the studio and an opportunity to see
pictures actually being made. You may
be lucky enough to see the great DeMille
feature, Northwest Mounted Police in
production, or any one of Paramount's
forthcoming hits — films such as A Night
At Earl Carroll's, Untamed, or Safari.
It is impossible to tell in advance just
which pictures will be available.

The special feature of the 1940 Movie-
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this charming film couple, and have ample
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During your stay in Hollywood you will
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tour of Hollywood, the visit to the studio,
the cocktail party, and incidental pleasure
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The price is extremely modest, consid-
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For complete details of the 1940 Movie-
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City.

REBECCA — United Artists

SJH Outstanding picture of the month is
this story of a young bride who was
haunted by the mystery and by the mem-
ory of her husband's first wife, Rebecca.

The novel which was such a sensational
best seller several years ago has been
lifted straight from its pages, placed on
the screen without loss of its gripping
tension, its strained mood, its telling
power, but the central figure emerges as
much more interesting character in the
playing of Joan Fontaine than she did as
the "I" of the novel.

More than one person became frankly
weary of the young bride's self-
consciousness over her red hands and her
childish nails in the novel. If they
bothered her so much, why didn't she
pop up to London for a manicure, de-
manded the slightly exasperated reader
who already was tired out because he
couldn't put the book down until he had
found out what happened to Rebecca.

The film has just as much suspense, but
the irritation with the central character's
gaucheries, her frightened ineffectualities,
her inability to ask one or two sensible
questions is all submerged in the sensi-
tiveness of Miss Fontaine's interpretation
of the part.

Laurence Olivier is the exactly right
choice for the brooding, haunted Max de
Winter, topping even his own perform-
ance of Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights
in strain and suppression.

Judith Anderson's smooth voice and
fluid body give the part of Danny the
quality of living danger and waiting dis-
aster so essential if the story is to be
believed at all.

George Sanders, Nigel Bruce, Gladys
Cooper, Reginald Denny, C. Aubrey
Smith, Melville Cooper and Lumsden
Hare bring to smaller parts the vivid
overtones of the book. The sets of Man-
derley are magnificent and Alfred Hitch-
cock's direction makes the film, which
runs two and a quarter hours, seem no
longer than the average feature.

PRIMROSE PATH— R-K-O

9 A rather astonishing part is this for
Ginger Rogers who heretofore has
been identified with gay musicals and
light comedies and farces. It serves to
prove that she is an excellent actress, as
well as an expert comedienne, however,
even though it is going to draw disap-
proval from some quarters.

She plays a Ellie May who hates and
distrusts men to such an extent that she
dresses like a child and wears her hair in
unbecoming pigtails. Ellie May had her
reasons for not liking men. Her father
(Miles Mander) was a drunken weakling
who wept when his wife (Marjorie Ram-
beau) brought home gifts from her
numerous men friends, but who allowed

her to support the family as best she
could. Ellie May's grandmother (Queenie
Vassar) saw nothing wrong in her
daughter's enterprises. Her younger days
had been spent in much the same way.

Then Ellie May fell in love. Ed (Joel
McCrea) was a great success with the
flashy girls from the cannery, and he was
hard to impress. Ellie May managed to
gain his imagination by a hastily spun
yarn of stern and wealthy parents.

The shock for Ed was considerable
when he finally met the disreputable
family of his bride. This picture also
may be a considerable shock to careful
parents, for, though it is very well acted
indeed, the characters are certainly not
the kind you'd ask to daughter's gradua-
tion exercises.

VIRGINIA CITY— Warners

H Once more, the South loses the Civil
War, and this time it can surprise
nobody, because the gallant southern
soldier and his spirited little sweetheart
almost seem to ask for failure.

Why a nice girl like the aristocratic
Julia (Miriam Hopkins) should be work-
ing as a dance-hall girl way out in Nevada,
and so serving the Confederacy as a spy,
is hard to explain. But there she is, look-
ing very pretty indeed in black tights
which are extremely shocking to the
gallant Federal officer (Errol Flynn) who
is out there being a spy from the other
side. His assignment is a little easier to
understand. He suspects that a large
shipment of gold from mines belonging
to Southern sympathizers is to be made to
the South. His job is to stop the shipment,
save the gold for the North, if possible.

The gallant Confederate officer (Ran-
dolph Scott) is such a brave man that he
never looks behind, even when he knows
that spies are in town, so he goes directly
to the hiding place of the gold, and that
starts a lot of fights, and a long chase over
the desert. There is a jail-break, an
attack by Indians and robbers, an explo-
sion or two, some songs, an ambush, a
betrayal of a trusting man by the woman
he loves, a court martial and a last minute
pardon from President Lincoln.

Judging solely from the way President
Lincoln acts in most movies, it seems a
shame that some eloquent Confederate
mother or sweetheart didn't ask him to
surrender to President Davis. He so sel-
dom says "No" in the movies that it might
have changed the whole course of history.

STRANGE CARGO — M-G-M

M Tough was the prisoner Verne (Clark
Gable), mean and resentful and de-
termined to make his escape from Devil's
Island. Punishment did not change his
mind. Neither did solitary confinement.
Neither did reports of the dangers of the
swamp, the promises of capture or of
death within a few miles of the prison
walls.

The same idea of escape haunted an

unsavory set of his fellow prisoners. They
were vicious men, all. Brutal crimes had
taken them to Devil's Island. They were
prepared to repeat them to get away. That
is why no one asked too many questions
when a new man, Cambreau (Ian
Hunter), bribed his way into their com-
pany. He had plenty of money, and it
would be useful, especially if Cambreau
happened to be killed on the way through
the jungle.

The whole film is devoted in greater
part through two long struggles against
shocking hardships. The first is the fight
of the men against the poisons and the
fevers and the quick-sands of the swamps.
It is a much smaller group that finally
wins through to the seacoast and the
waiting boat. The second part is the long
sail without water or food under the
blistering tropic sun.

Joan Crawford sacrifices make-up
through most of the film to play the part
of Julie, outcast dance-hall girl who tol-
erates Verne only because he can help
her to get away, and then falls in love
with him. The most striking thing about
the story is the change that overtakes all
of the characters under the quiet influ-
ence of Cambreau, but it would not be
fair to reveal in advance the secret of his
presence.

This film was banned in Detroit by local
censors because of the unsavory charac-
ters with which it deals. So don't take
the little ones.

IT'S A DATE — Universal

■ Entirely delightful is the way that
Universal is edging Deanna Durbin
into grown-up roles without losing the
value of her youthful appeal.

In the new picture, she plays Pamela,
ambitious eighteen-year-old daughter of
Georgia Drake, famous stage star. Com-
pletely over-shadowed by her mother's
glamour, it never occurs to Pamela that
she can start her acting career anywhere
but in the smallest parts on Broadway.
And even those are seemingly impossible
to find. Her mother's producer (Samuel
Hinds) smiles at her tolerantly when she
begs to play a maid, sends her back to
summer stock school. After all, he is too
busy to bother with youngsters, no matter
how talented. He has a famous playwright
(S. Z. Sakall) on his hands, and the famous
playwright is making trouble. He is de-
claring that Georgia is too old to play in
his newest drama, and no producer likes
to carry such tidings to a star who is
wildly enthusiastic about a new part.

Before the bad news can be broken to
Georgia (Kay Francis), she leaves for
Honolulu for rest and concentration on
her new play. When the producer and the
playwright decide that little Pamela is
the one to do it, they have no idea that
she will sail instantly to get help from
her mother. And how could they know
that she would be so absorbed in the part
that she would act it all the way across?
How could the captain know that his

intense little passenger was learning lines,
not actually contemplating suicide?

By the time Pamela reaches her mother's
charming tropic retreat, she has a de-
voted, if somewhat bewildered man in
tow, and as handsome a set of misunder-
standings and complications as you could
wish.

The whole cast is singularly charming
in its interpretation of the light, well-bred
comedy. Walter Pidgeon is amusing as
the mature man who finds himself en-
gaged to a child and in love with her
young mother. Cecelia Loftus, Lewis
Howard, Fritz Feld and Henry Stephenson
contribute parts that are all profit, and of
course there are half a dozen songs de-
livered in the star's usual effective

DR. CYCLOPS — Paramount

B There is a new menace in Hollywood
... a grisly gentleman quite worthy
to be classed with Dracula, Frankenstein's
monster, King Kong and the other leading
lights of the shriek and shudder school of
entertainment. He is Dr. Cyclops, played
by Albert Decker, who is quite the most
effective of this season's mad scientists.
Experiments that staggered the imag-
ination were under way deep in the South
American jungle when three scientists
arrived after an arduous journey. There
was a cool, insulting air of mystery about
the hulking, pre-occupied man who had
[Continued on page 57]

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Whitney Bourne's luxurious
New York apartment is the
meeting place of society and
the arts. She spends a great
deal of time in Hollywood
where she follows a career
in the movies.

-""*~"V^M^

Miss June Rorhe, TWA ait

hostess, has learned to serve
a 7-course meal — alone — to
21 people traveling at 200
miles per hour! Charm,
limited weight, nurse's train-
in g are other job requirements

iftfiS

ijlijliiill

BUT BOTH GIVE
THEIR SKIN THIS

SAME THOROUGH
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QUESTION TO MISS BOURNE:

With a busy social life and a de-
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Bourne, how do you keep your
complexion so vibrant and fresh
looking?

ANSWER: "It's a matter of regular
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QUESTION TO MISS ROTHE:

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as air hostess, Miss Rothe?

ANSWER: "Yes— we needn't be
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Pond's 2 Creams. I use Pond's
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June dances on off-dut

Arriving for premiere at
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Street-
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_Slate_

Jeanefte's Bright Ideas

Jeanette MacDonald would get along very nice-
ly on her concert tour, were it not for the fact
that her "bright ideas" do not always Work

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

■ Traveling ... for a movie star ... is both pleasure arid pain,
especially if you are a movie star who always is getting bright
ideas, like Jeanette MacDonald.

She came into her drawing room on the train bound for Philadel-
phia, helpless with laughter, fell into a seat and waved her hands in
despairing indication that she had the giggles.

"He thinks I'm crazy!" she explained, none too clearly, and went
off into another peal of laughter.

She did not look crazy. She looked very beautiful in a fragile wisp
of a bluish-green wool dress, just the vivid color of her eyes. Slip-
ping her arms out of her big mink coat, she [Continued on page 58]

'/*

t \m

In El Paso, where the concert lour started,
the whole town turned out in welcome, and
the Texas Rangers sang western songs,
staged a chince in honor of her arrival

■

Left, Jeanette MacDonald
bids her mother and hus-
band Gene Raymond
"Goodbye'- just before de-
parture on her concert tour

Even more beautiful off the
screen than on, the star was
the delight of fans begging
autographs after each concert

GWZ<4/ , f£ere js your chance to win One
Thousand Dollars — or any of 132 other big cash
prizes! It's easy! It's fun! The glamorous, fas-
cinating beauty, whose life and loves soon
will be seen in the spectacular 20th Century-
Fox picture, "Lillian Russell, " inspired this
Contest! All you have to do is check as
True or False the statements in the column
at the right. Then write a letter of not
more than 50 words on the subject:

"WHY LILLIAN RUSSELL IS
FAMOUS AS AMERICA'S
NO. 1 GLAMOR GIRL."

Be sure to send in your True or False
List with your letter to 20th
Century-Fox — and you can be one
of the many winners! Read care-
fully the Contest Rules below
. . . and start immediately!

6 The pavement outside Lillian

Russell's home was studded with
diamonds and rubies. True Q False □

2 "Diamond Jim" Brady was Lillian

Russell's ardent admirer and show-
ered her with costly jewels.

True □ False D

3 Lillian Russell was given a king-

dom by the Maharajah of igahndi-
goor. True □ ^f alse Q

4 Lillian Russell's exciting life and
loves will be seen in a motion pic-
ture made by Darryl F. Zanuck.

True □ False □

5 Lillian Russell was discovered by
the famous showman, Tony Pastor,
when he heard her sing.

True Q False Q

r0Z&'

FIRST $
PRIZE

1,000°°

2nd PRIZE . . . $500.00

3rd PRIZE

$250.00

EASY TO WIN!

7 Lillian Russell was the daughter of
a President of the United States, n

True □ False D /

8 Celebrated New York men-about-
town returned to the theatre week
after week to see and applaud
Lillian Russell. True □ False □

9 Alice Faye will portray Lillian
Russell in a motion picture soon to
be released by 20th Century-Fox

True □ False D

10 Lillian Russell wore a wondrous
evening gown woven entirely of
rare butterfly wings. TrueO

YOUR NAME

STREET

CITY STATE

ATTACH THIS TO YOUR LETTER O
"WHY LILLIAN RUSSELL IS FAMOUS
AS AMERICA'S NO. 2 GLAMOR GIRL.

5 PRIZES of $100.00 each
25 PRIZES of $10.00 each
100 PRIZES of $5.00 each

EASY RULES!

1. Check the True or False statements in the
space provided. Print or write plainly your
name and address on the coupon and attach
it firmly to an original letter of not more than
50 words on the subject: WHY LILLIAN
RUSSELL IS FAMOUS AS AMERICA'S No.
1 GLAMOR GIRL.

2. Mail your True or False List and your letter
of not more than 50 words to the Lillian
Russell Contest Editor, 20th Century -Fox
Film Corporation, 444 West 56th St., New
York. You can submit as many letters as you
want, provided each is accompanied by a
separate True or False printed form.

Residents of the United States, Hawaii or the
Dominion of Canada may compete, except
employees of 20th Century-Fox, their adver-
tising agency and their families. Contest is
subject to Federal, State and local regula-
tions. Contest closes June 15, 1940. All en-
tries become the property of 20th Century-
Fox Film Corporation.

Entries will be judged by the highest number
of correct answers to the True or False List
and, in the event of a tie, by the merit and
originality of the letter of not more than 50
words. The decision of the judges will be
final. No correspondence will be entered
into regarding the Contest.

Checks will be mailed to the winners within
a month of the close of the Contest. Anyone
wishing a complete list of winners may obtain
same by writing 20th Century- Fox and en-
closing a stamped, self-addressed envelope.

Hollywood's Strangest Policies

Sonja Heme's legs are protected by
a quarter of a million dollars
in insurance policies

Zorina's twinkling toes
are insured against all in-
juries, and the policy bars
her from playing games
such as tennis or croquet !

Hollywood believes firmly
in insurance as a safe and
sane investment, even
though some of the pol-
icies sound slightly crazy

Bv JAMES F. S CHEEK

| Out of curiosity I asked her to take off
her shoes. I wanted to see the much-
publicized toes that she had insured for
$25,000 apiece with Lloyds of London.

There were all ten of them — pinkish
looking and somewhat square on the ends.

"Do they look different?"

It was the star who belongs to the feet
that own the toes that would cause an
insurance company a quarter of a million
dollars worth of embarrassment should
they be unable to twinkle again. It was
Zorina, queen of the ballet, relaxing be-
tween shots of I Was An Adventuress.

Deanna Durbin can't go nearer

to the ocean than this,

because her policy

bans swimming

"I thought not," she said,
smiling a friendly smile.
"This $250,000 assortment of toes causes
me a lot of trouble. Ever since the insur-
ance company began to worry about them
with me, I've had to be twice as careful.

"I can't play tennis, croquet, bowl, or
engage in any sport. Outside of my
routine calisthenics and my dancing, my
most violent, exercise is playing bridge."
She laughed good-naturedly. "It's my
duty to keep my toes in my shoes and out
of trouble. But I guess my insurance
policy isn't the only unusual one in Holly-
wood."

And Zorina was right!

Hollywood is the hatching ground of
fantastic insurance policies.

Singers protect themselves against los-
ing their ceiling notes. Expectant fathers
insure their wives against twins. Actresses
insure their legs and their complexions.
Actors insure themselves against losing
weight. Others take out policies to pro-
tect themselves from having their names
misspelled.

But there is a solid reason behind
Hollywood's oddest policies. It is usually
this: stars must protect future earning
power by guarding their physical or
artistic assets. [Continued on page 39]

■1

One of the most absorbing
stories ever told on the
screen is that of Edison,
The Man who made the
moving picture possible

| For two days Spencer Tracy
had been trying to invent
Thomas Edison's electric light.
In a spattered apron and a bat-
tered suit he sat at a desk sur-
rounded by shelves filled with
bottles of chemicals, with models
of inventions. Frowning, he made
notes in a small gray book.
At this portentous moment in the
year 1879, only the thin flame of a
gas jet picked out the glint of glass
and metal, the stocky shoulders of the
inventor, the hunk of apple pie and tum-
bler of milk at his elbow. Darkish in that
laboratory! He hadn't created the electric light
yet — hadn't jerked the world at one stroke into the
modern electric era that "plugs in" its coffee or suntan,
and, at nightfall, turns the streets of a whole city bright
as noon by throwing a switch.

JESSIE HENDERSON

It was one of the most extraordinary
sets Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer has ever
built. And one of the toughest
scenes Spencer Tracy ever played.
For in Edison, The Man he had to
be Thomas Alva Edison. Scores of
people who will see the picture
knew the wizard who died in
1931. Among them are his own
children, one of whom is Secre-
tary of the Navy today. Tracy
could take no dramatic liberties
with the part, nor could M-G-M
with the setting. Even the apple
pie and tumbler of milk were au-
thentic. So, as far as humanly pos-
sible, was every expression and
mannerism of Tracy's. He had studied
them three times a week for a month and
a half, from five newsreels in which Edison
appeared. The part is also the longest Tracy
has played. Of 90 scenes in the film he is in 85.
The camera edged nearer. Dimly out the windows could
be glimpsed the trees and pleasant hills of Menlo Park, N. J.
But what Edison regarded so intently was a tiny light
bulb two inches high, that began to glow dull red as the

In 1879, Edison (Spencer Tracy) started
on his experiments with electricity.
The janitor is played by Henry Travers

Seven years later, Edison had his own
laboratory and began searching for a sub-
stance to give light without burning up

The first lamp! Its platinum filament
burned out quickly and fused in the heat.
And it was shockingly expensive to build

Edison next tried to save his filaments by
placing them in the bell of a crude, hand-
pump vacuum ... a big step forward

The experiments with the vacuum pumps
continued, the glass bulb we know today
began to take shape, but still light failed

Not until Edison made a filament of car-
bon, rolled around ordinary sewing
thread, did the light burn for a long time

HOLLYWOOD

Sixty-five attempts failed before the deli-
cate carbon filament was safely in its
bulb. Expert glass-blowers made this copy

Then began the famous "death watch."

Edison dared not leave his lamp, sat up

11 night with his helper (Gene Reynolds)

Edison asks for a franchise to light New
York City, and gets it but must use
his own money for the "experiment"

Notice the quaint street lamps, replicas of
those outside the first office of what was
to be the mightiest of light companies

Trouble in the generator room on the day
Edison must turn on his street lights. Mrs.
Edison (Rita Johnson) watches anxiously

In 1882, despite prophesies of failure
"because electric light is contrary to na-
ture's laws" the lamps in New York shine

inventor gave it the current. Watching
with bated breath, everybody on the set
prayed he'd win this time; for without
electric light there'd be no movies, with-
out movies no Hollywood, and THEN
what?

Again the glow faded, the filament fiz-
zled, the experiment went phfft as ordered
by the script. They called time out to
reassemble the setup — the sort of thing
which makes two days necessary for one
sequence. Still, Edison had taken eight
years, and his tests for the right filament
went phfft 9,000 times. It's something to
think about when next you snap on your
reading lamp.

Tracy gave a sigh as realistic as if, like
Edison, he'd truly strained to outdistance
other inventors and be first to achieve
the electric light which is almost as essen-
tial to our current (ooops, sorry!) exist-
ence as air. These movies! Edison's fail-
ures to invent electric light were at
the very instant being filmed by the
selfsame light he hadn't yet invented.

JUNE, 1940

Once more the camera edged up. The
Wizard of Menlo Park, casting round for
a new type of filament, scraped soot (pure
carbon) from a smoky lamp chimney and
combined it with ordinary sewing thread.
Gently he pressed a button. Glory! The
thing worked!

Oh, hooray, now we can have those signs
that flash along Broadway, and traffic sig-
nals, and permanent waves, and all the
doodads which follow in the wake of elec-
tric illumination, many of them impos-
sible or impracticable without it.

"The patience of the man!" Tracy mar-
velled at the end of the scene. "One re-
sult of it — twelve times I pass by the name
'Edison' between my dressingroom and
the sound stage. For example, it's on the
manhole cover over the tunnel for electric
wiring outside the stage door." His blue
eyes raked the laboratory as if they could
visualize the stupendous feats of mind and
will accomplished there.

That laboratory set is the heart of the
picture. Some 25,000 items were repro-

duced for "atmosphere," ranging from
models of inventions to floor boards and
filaments. But chiefly bottles, white, yel-
low, turquoise, ruby, covering three sides
of the wooden walls. Whenever a new
chemical came out, Edison bought a sup-
ply. In ten years he collected 20,000 bottles
of a hundred outdated shapes and sizes so
unobtainable now that they had to be
specially made on the M-G-M lot.

Several years ago Henry Ford recon-
structed the original laboratory with its
contents, as a museum, at Greenfield Vil-
lage, Michigan. Seeing it there, Edison
pronounced it 99 l/10ths per cent correct.
Asked about the other tenth, he said: "We
had more dirt on the floor."

Before the picture began, Tracy, Direc-
tor Clarence Brown, and Producer John
W. Considine visited Greenfield; and Con-
sidine, who for 14 years has wanted to do
a film about Edison, brought back to
Hollywood William A. Simonds, Green-
field museum curator, as technical ad-
viser. Thanks to [Continued on page 52]

<"-Phoi0

Alice Fare, as the gorgeous Lillian Russell, with Edward
Arnold who once more is playing Diamond Jim Brady, Don
Ameche as one of her husbands, Henry Fonda as another
and Warren William. Considerably less buxom than Miss
Russell is Miss Faye, but, then, the men who recreate the
swains who flocked around the Belle of the Nineties are
slimmer, too, so realism is consistently and well served

Tony Pastor, the great showman of the Nineties who discov-
ered Lillian Russell and who was her faithful friend, is
played by Leo Carrillo. A delightful scene in the picture is
when Pastor, lunching in his garden, looks over the fence
and discovers the young singer playing theatre for her own
amusement. Here Helen Westley admires a glittering new
bracelet, symbol of Lillian's success in the real stage

Lillian Russell

This charming article, written by the distinguished
director of the film. Lillian Russell, brings back the
great beauty who was the toast of all New York

| If there existed the faintest chance of
my becoming blase and jaded after
thirty years as a practitioner of the art
and mystery of the motion picture, it
would be dispelled at once by the elec-
trifying opportunity to perform such a
labor of love as directing Lillian Russell.

Without exaggeration I can say that it
would be a delight to direct a Lillian
Russell picture every year for as long as
I remain in directorial harness, and the
wealth of material in Lillian Russell's
shining career would still be scarcely
scratched.

Lillian Russell loved deeply and, if it
appears that she loved often, it must also
be considered that her career in the the-
atre was long and diversified. There was
never a whisper of scandal about her.
Otherwise she could never have been
commissioned as colonel of a regiment in
the United States Army; the army is stiff-
necked about whom it honors.

The re-creation of Lillian Russell before
the camera was for me like turning the
pages of a treasured memory book. As a

Director Irving Cummings, the
author of this article, shown
warning Miss Faye not to sit
down on her sash. Mr. Cummings
was juvenile leading man with
Miss Russell and remembers all
of her costumes vividly, insists
on accuracy in details. In this
costume, the basque is dark blue
faille, the skirt white organdie

By IRVING CUMMINGS

young actor I knew the golden-haired
first lady of the stage and was the bene-
ficiary of her kindness. In Miss Alice Faye
there came ready to my hand the instru-
ment through which I could reincarnate
all her shining loveliness.

The circumstances of my first momen-
tous meeting with the great Lillian are
worth recounting as an example of the
graciousness with which she treated striv-
ing young colleagues. At the age of 21,
after only a few stage engagements, I was
summoned by my agent to present myself
as a candidate for a leading juvenile role
with Miss Russell, who was the reigning
toast of New York and incomparably
the greatest figure in the contemporary
theatre.

An appointment was arranged for me
to visit her at her apartment in the Ma-
jestic Hotel. I was in a panic of trepidation,
fearful of my ability to carry off an inter-
view with such a haloed personage, ter-
rified lest I stammer and falter in reciting
the answers to the usual question: "What
have you done?" and "For whom did
you do it?"

I spent a feverish ten minutes waiting
in a lavishly appointed drawing room.
Then Miss Russell appeared and I was
instantly at ease. Despite her overpower -
ingly beautiful face and figure — the ex-

pression "peaches and cream" was coined
to describe her complexion — there was
nothing regal about her manner. She
accepted me as a professional, and did not
embarrass me by asking me about my
brief and scarcely distinguished career
in the theatre, having been thoughtful
enough to satisfy herself on this point
before summoning me for inspection.

Her whole effort was bent toward pre-
senting her projected production in a
favorable light, as if I needed any induce-
ment to join the Lillian Russell company.
Her manner was so considerate, friendly
and humane that I should gladly have
followed her about the country on my
hands and knees.

This, it developed, was hardly neces-
sary. Still in a semi-hypnotic trance I
accepted the offer to be her juvenile man
in In Search of a Sinner, and it was in that
same exalted state that I rounded out a
thirty-seven week tour.

We traveled, on Lillian Russell's bounty,
in her own private railroad car, enjoying
the rare luxury of drawing rooms, shower
baths, and premium foods out of season.
The cost to us was what we might have
paid for room and board in fourth-class
hotels — $3 a day. The difference between
the cost to us and the cost to Miss Russell,
which was some $9 per day per person,
she characteristically paid out of her own
pocket.

Never aloof, never the great lady of the
theatre offstage, she greeted us on Feb-
ruary mornings in the blizzard belt as
fresh as the breakfast strawberries.

There is no single performance of that
tour that I cannot re-live merely by clos-
ing my eyes and cueing myself into my
opening line.

Ernest Truex [Continued on page 50]

The gentleman with the whistle is the
sound technician who sees that the
microphone boom is correctly placed,
an important duty, especially in a
musical picture. Like everyone else
in the company, he seems engrossed
by the loveliness of Miss Faye in her
billowy costumes. Lillian Russell was
famous for the wildest extravagances
in her sensational wardrobe, and the
studio has lavished time, care and
money in copying gowns that were the
wonder of even the glittering Broadway
of the rich and dazzling Gay Nineties

'v*at

**<* Wilh

^toutei

Our favorite

a stand
snbjeei <

extra takes
males, t
iece for

of males, and eats
off the mantelpi*

By E. J. (TheBora
SMITHSON

a while

eBoraxKid)
HSOX

DEAR EDITOR:

The information you are about to
receive herewith and pronto may not
rate more than three choice Bronx
cheers and five boxes of borax in the
open market, but the fact still remains
that this tenderized piece about Metro-
Goldwyn-Mayer's 20 Mule Team came
as close to being the final one ever
written by your intrepid extraman as

vice is to versa or ham is to eggs.
But before I go into the harrowing
details of how the nineteenth mule of the
20 mule team tried to blitzkreig me out
of my moom pichur career, I want to voice
a few vehement protests against further
extra work up, in, and around any and all
Death Valley location sites. I went up
there for RKO during the filming of
Gunga Din and came out so blistered by

the sun that I couldn't sit down for two
weeks. That should have been the tip-off,
but you know me — a fool for punishment
so I accept your kind invitation to go up
again to help Wally Beery, Leo Carrillo,
Anne Baxter, Marjorie Rambeau, Noah
Beery, Jr., Douglas Fowley, and Arthur
Hohl straighten out 20 Mule Team.

And so what happens?

This happens!

HOLLYWOOD

I come back looking like a section of
Grauman's Chinese Theatre forecourt.
And I look that way because just South
of the Border I'm carrying an inch-deep
imprint of a mule's right hind hoof. And
so here I am again, unable to sit down
without suffering pain, and notified by
the doctor that I'm going to be branded
for life! No ma'am, no more Death Valley
location trips for Ex-Death Valley Smitty!
Please bear that in
mind when you want
future extra stories.

field that way. Maybe we did. I wouldn't
put any trick past this famous pilot. All
I know is that I was a mighty sick man
when a couple of muleskinners pulled me
out and said something about Paul giving
this guy the works.
Fortunately for me,

The reason for the jitters is plain.
Ever hear of Bad
Water? No? Well,

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My trip up to location started out aus-
piciously enough. That is for the first
fifty miles. For one reason or another,
mostly, though, because I managed to
oversleep (as usual) I missed the bus that
was scheduled to carry twenty of us extras
up north. The next thing I knew I was
being carted out to the airport and shoved
into a plane piloted by Paul Mantz, the
famous stunt flyer. Mantz had been hired
to fly the day's rushes to and from loca-
tion. This Mantz must have been in a
hurry, because it seemed to me he was
up in the air before he'd traveled fifty feet
of runway and climbing faster than a bird
could fly. Well, while it wasn't delightful,
the experience was thrilling and I leaned
over and yelled my approval of the way
he was handling his ship. He leaned over
and yelled for me to shut my big mouth
and tighten my safety belt. So I do as he
says, and it was lucky for me that I did
because no sooner had I pulled in my belt
an extra notch than this naughty Mantz
started his aerial fireworks. So far as I
have any recollection of what happened
after that, we flew upside down and side-
ways. Then we roller- coasted from one
cloud to another, and, as a final fillip,
Mantz jerked the ship so that it stood on
its tail. In that position we skidded for a
hundred feet or more. I don't know
whether or not we came onto the landing

one of the boys had pro-
vided himself with a pint
bottle of 80 proof snakebite cure, and after
gulping down two doses I returned to
normal. What I mean is, I felt able to
open my eyes.

■ The sequences we shot that day and
the next were the toughest I ever took
part in, and I've taken part in a lot of
tough ones.

After getting dressed up in desert rat
shirt and pants, we were ordered to put
on shoes that must have weighed three
or four pounds each, this weight was due
to the slabs of metal nailed on the soles
to prevent the borax crystals from
cutting through the leather and into our
tootsies. After we'd laced on our boots
we stood around while a couple of prop
boys sprinkled us with alkali dust from
head to foot, when we were dirtied up
to the satisfaction of Richard Thorpe, the
director, we were led over to where Wally
Beery, as Bill Bragg, prize muleskinner of
the borax route, was getting ready to
drive his 20 mule team across the desert
floor to Mohave, 160 miles away. Wally,
if looks meant anything, didn't appear to
relish this job and neither did the mules
and neither did the extras. The sun was
getting hotter than the hinges of old
Belzebub's hang-out, the dust was chok-
ing up our windpipes, and everybody from
Director Thorpe on down, seemed to be
suffering from A No. 1 cases of jangled
nerves.

it's a little spot on the
edge of the salt beds and
it's 279 feet and 6 inches
below sea level, the lowest below sea level
spot in North America, and an extremely
difficult place to do much strenuous work
in. The name was given it years ago be-
cause the holes in the desert floor are
filled with black water. Prospectors, see-
ing these on their journeys across the
desert would plunge into them and gulp
down the black fluid to assuage their
terrible thirst. Many of them died right
then and there and for good reason.

The water contains 95 per cent Epsom
Salts in solution!

In his last picture, The Man From
Dakota, Beery had to fall into a river-
bottom hole and he suffered a painful ear
infection from the dirty water. Director
Thorpe decided to take no chances on
these Death Valley sequences. On a pre-
liminary trip to this location he brought
back a bottle of the water and had it
analyzed by studio chemists who reported
that it contained a nearly saturated solu-
tion of Epsom Salts as well as numerous
thriving bugs. So new holes were dug,
the sides lined with canvas, and filled with
pure water. Well, everything appears to
be ready and we start out from Bad Water.
We're supposed to travel four miles, not
all at once, mind you, but four long tough
miles nevertheless, and when it's finished
it will be the longest continuous "per-
ambulator" shot in the history of the
motion picture industry. Ever so often
when we come to a water hole, we jump
in to "undehydrate" ourselves because the
intense heat has practically dried up our
bodies. Wally climbs aboard the wagon,
cracks his long bull whip and away he
goes. [Continued on page 46]

JUNE, 1940

One glance is enough to tell
the butler (Donald Meek)
that something is seriously
amiss when he discovers Mrs.
Willows (Carole Landis) sing-
ing in a loud bass voice in
Mr. Willows' shower bath

Mr. Willows (John Hub-
bard) is alarming to his
fellow -workers, William
Cargan, Verree Teasdale
and Adolphe Menjou, when
28 he uses his wife's voice and
mannerisms in conference

Tare8*011*

SEBE*A »•*•—»

Right, the doctor (Wright Kramer)
tells the despairing Mr. Willows
in his wife's body, startling news

■ Beneath the crystal lamps and pastel murals of as nifty a pent-
house set as Hollywood has seen these many pictures, Adolphe
Menjou and VerreeTeasdale and William Gargan stood — out of camera
range — looking expectant and a little bit anxious. They didn't think
Carole Landis could do it.

In a very feminine gown, the last word in chic, Carole was on top of
the penthouse flagpole nailing some wire to the radio aerial. Out
upon the terrace came Mary Astor and Joyce Compton, seeking their
hostess and lunch. From her lofty perch Carole spied them.

She waved the hammer. "H'ya, girls! Be right with you!" she said
in a deep masculine voice.

Menjou and Verree and Gargan gave a start. She'd done it! That
dainty, slim creature had spoken in the voice of John Hubbard,
with the effect of a canary suddenly bellowing like a bull.
John Hubbard himself, lurking round a corner of the set, didn't
look surprised at all. He knew the
trick! By similar shenanigans, he
could talk in Carole's voice so ac-
curately that her own mama
couldn't tell the difference.

"Nice work!" said John in Carole's
tones, light and high and girlish.

"Thanks, old pal," Carole answered in those astonishing manly
accents.

The tough, constant practice of weeks and weeks had been justified

on both sides. For Turnabout demands exactly what the title implies —

a turnabout of voices and jobs and personalities. She's he and he's

she. . . .

In other words, they were making a picture on the Hal Roach lot

out of that hilarious story

by the late Thome Smith

who also wrote Topper and

Topper Takes A Trip. It is

perhaps the most unusual

picture yet. Just listen;

here's the plot.

Tim Willows (John Hubbard; you saw him in two previous
films, The Housekeeper's Daughter and 1,000,000 B.C.) is a
dynamic, athletic young advertising executive. Sally, his wife
(Carole Landis, heroine of 1,000,000 B.C.) is a lovely hostess,
possibly over- fond of giving bridge parties and swank dinners.
The two often quarrel, and in the midst of a bedtime argument
over which has the harder life, the executive or the hostess,
each expresses a wish to lead the other's career; Sally yearns
to loll around an office all day, Tim yearns to lie abed till noon.
On a shelf in their room is the bust of an Oriental god, "Mr.
Ram" (George Reneavant), who has the power to grant any
wish upon which the young couple agree. For once, they are
in agreement. So, while they sleep, [Continued on page 63]

Right, Mrs. Willows occupying her
husband's body, finds out a few
things about one of his friends

Joyce Compton and Mary Astor
are understandably astounded
when Mrs. Willows acts like Mr.

Right, Mr. Willows displays
an uncanny knowledge about
hose to Franklin Pangborn

Below, trouble and lots of
it explaining just how he knows
what kind of lingerie the wives wear

Will MacDowell makes a career of saying "No" and
Hollywood people love him for the way he does it

The Man Who "No's" Everyone

The brilliant authoress of "Riverside
Drive," "Wedding Ring," "Applause"
and other novels was so much im-
pressed by Mac when she was writing
a film play in Hollywood that she
turned out this colorful story on him

Dy BETH BROWN

■ You might crash your way into a
baseball game. You might dig a tunnel
and get in under the Big Top at the circus.
An Annie Oakley will get you by the
ticket chopper of a Broadway play. But
don't try to crash past a Hollywood door-
man. It just can't be done.

Oh, so you've got an idea about it. You
think you know a way of getting in, do
you?

Well, if it's riding up to the motor en-
trance in a Rolls-Royce — that won't do it.
They're a dime a dozen on the lot.

If you think you can get in by turning
on the old s. a. you've got another think
coming. Studios have more beauty con-
test winners now than they know what
to do with. A fainting spell won't help

you either. The doorman may pick you
up in his arms, but he'll plunk you down
on a bench outside — while he applies the
smelling salts.

Oh, so you're from Bullock's Wilshire
with a bonnet for Milady on the lot? Well,
check all hats here. No, they don't allow
deliveries inside.

People have tried all sorts of novel ways
of getting in. Here comes a chap now,
with a dancing bear at the end of a chain.
He says the president of the company has
sent for him, and wants to see him in a
hurry. "Sorry," said the gateman. He's
had that trick worked before.

It won't do you any good to explain that
you've spent your last vacation dollar on
the old trailer that brought you all the

way from Maine or Virginia or Florida.
Folk have come from the end of the world,
but they can't get in just the same. They
just can't get by the doorman.

It's really not his fault. He's holding
down a job, don't you see, and it's a tough
one. Dollars to doughnuts, you'd never
change places with him, if you could
watch him work for a week.

In the first place, he must be a diplomat,

a detective, a policeman and a bouncer all

rolled into one. He mustn't say "No"

when the answer is "Yes," or "Yes" when

the answer is "No." It's important to let

the right person in without

delay, and it's too bad for

him if he doesn't keep the

/wrong person out.
Each of the studios has its
own defense line of infor-
mation. At Metro, for in-
stance, there are six desk
boys — handsome, efficient
and inscrutable — who work
in eight-hour shifts as
guardians of the gate. The
other studios employ
equally formidable staffs.

■ But the dean of them all — and he plays
a lone hand — is Mac of Marathon
Street.

He has been at Paramount as long as
an elephant can remember. Marathon
Street would become a prosaic place with-
out him. The show folk themselves
dubbed him "Mac" as a sign of affection.
He's Mac to Mr. Zukor as well as to the
girl in the cutting room. Only the accoun-
tant knows his full name but he, too,
calls him Mac.

Mac was born Will MacDowell. He
started with Paramount down on the gate
at Lemon Grove back in the old days.
The studio was an outdoor affair — the gate
was wooden and ramshackle. In those
days, you didn't have to have a pink pass
and a shave to get you through. The hours
were from six in the morning to six at
night except when it rained, and the
studio shut down the shop.

Then one day, some architects descended
and built a real studio. The wooden gate
came down. In its place up went some
iron gates as tall as the ones at Bucking-
ham Palace. Mac was poured into a uni-
form and promoted to the desk at the
new front office.

His eyes are very blue and very kind,
but his voice is very firm. When he says
"No" he means it, but somehow, he leaves
the impression that there's nothing he'd
rather say than "Yes." It's just his job,
don't you see, and if he weren't strict
about it, it wouldn't be any time at all
before he himself would be outside look-
ing in.

Mac is never-mind-how-old. He's quick,
strong, and short on words. He wears the
regulation police department uniform of
Los Angeles — blue shirt, black tie, and
gleaming police badge. He's of medium
height and is married. He never raises
his voice but he knows all the answers.
He has learned all the tricks, too, and
there are quite a few of them in the old
category of gate crashers.

No, it's not [Continued on page 61]

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By KOLMA FLAKE

■ Their names no longer make headline
news or twinkle on theatre marquees.
Their images no longer flash brilliantly
on the screen. But far from forgotten are
the lovable homespun philosopher, Will
Rogers, the fatally fascinating Rudolph
Valentino, and the first great regular-guy
hero, Wallace Reid. Memories of them are
still vivid in Hollywood, and those mem-
ories are a standard by which young
actors are judged to this day.

One young man who can prove how
hard these standards are to meet is Wally
Reid's own son, William Wallace Reid,
Jr. Seven years ago, Bill (as he prefers
to be called) stepped into the spotlight.
Fifteen is pretty young for anyone to
buck up against the standard set by our
deathless heroes, and he had the double
handicap of bearing his own great father's
name. As just another talented juvenile,
he might have been a success. But,
heralded as Wally Reid, Jr., he flopped
resoundingly. Audiences expected that,
by some strange alchemy, their dead idol
would laugh, and dare and triumph again
on the screen. Instead they saw a tall,
lanky, freckled-faced boy, miserably lack-
ing in the savoir faire for which his father
was noted.

It was a bitter experience for Bill. He
had expected to be the conquering hero,
a great overnight success.

However, time has a happy way of
smoothing over difficulties and tempering
great sorrows and disappointments, and
Bill now can talk about his first screen
appearance with a half ironic, half amused
smile.

"I believe I was the dullest child that
ever existed," he says frankly — now. "I
thought it was swell to earn $2,000, great
to be in pictures. After the picture
flopped, I didn't know what I wanted to
do. For a while I worked as assistant di-
rector at Monogram where my mother
was story editor. She had earned her job
and because of her, they gave me a chance.

"That lasted for a while, and then I
turned to music. I was pretty good on the
saxophone and now and then got a job
in the second row of a little band. But
then someone would discover my identity
and insist that I front the band and do a
solo. I wasn't that good. Furthermore,
I didn't get much satisfaction out of play-
ing in bands.

"I know now that I want to be in mo-
tion pictures. That means plenty of hard
work ahead of me. The public won't
accept a shadow. It has an uncanny
ability to go right through to a per-
former's backbone. My father was said
to be the best actor in his day. Well,
my goal then is to be the best in my day.
Perhaps it will take only three years.
Perhaps it will take thirty, but I'm going
to keep working at it."

In the meantime, Bill is glad to have
the moral support from his parents'
friends.

Cecil B. DeMille has given him more
than moral support. He has shown faith
in Bill by assigning him an important

Above, the great star of silent films,
Wally Reid, with Wally, Jr., at the age
of nine. Right, young Wally as he looks
today at twenty-two after winning his first
big part in Northwest Mounted Police

Heroes

Don't Die

Wally Reid, Jr. is discovering that
his famous father still is alive in the
hearts of his friends in Hollywood

featured role in his new film, Northwest Mounted
Police. Bill feels that DeMille has given him a golden
chance . . . just as he did Bill's father in 1914 when
the producer gave him his first important acting op-
portunity in a picture titled (prophetically, it would
seem) The Golden Chance.

This time, Bill comes better prepared to the screen,
because he has been working hard on his scholarship
in Ben Bard's Playhouse, one of Hollywood's best
dramatic schools, where he has appeared in many
plays.

"Bill is a good student, [Continued on page 48]

1. Gr r-r! That gang of mine! They
would stir up a skating party on
the very day I'm being a woman.
I couldn't go! I was sizzling mad!
So I sneaked up the stairs. But . . .

2. My Aunt Kate who's down on a
visit wanted to know "how come."
So I upped and told her, "I'm
chafed. One turn around the rink
and I'd be fit for a wheel chair."
The next thing I knew, things
were flying around. And . . .

REVENGE
IS SWEET

BY SUZY

3. Out of Aunt Kate's bag came a box
of Miracle Modess. "Haven't you
heard that Modess now has 'Mois-
ture zoning'?" she stormed. "It acts
to direct moisture inside the pad —
keeping edges dry and comfortable
longer than ever before."

4. "And look at this," she rushed on:
"Here's why Modess is so heavenly
soft! The inside is made of fluff— airy
as a cloud. Entirely different from lay-
er-type napkins." "I'm sold," I piped
up, but Aunt Kate said, "Wait! I'll
show you another surprise!"

5. She took the moisture-resistant

backing out of a Modess pad —
poured some water on it — and not
one drop came through. "See," she
crowed: "Modess is safer, too!"
Right away quick, I borrowed the
box and . . .

)

6. Whango! When the crowd came
py^ over to play ping pong that night,
I romped off with the game and
sweet revenge! I'll say it's Miracle
Modess and glorious comfort for
me from now on. (Specially since
I've found it costs no more !)

TRY IT NOW!

WITH

The Career of Mrs. Chips

I Greer Garson is as Irish as the sweep-
stakes. She hails from County Down,
that blessed vale in the North of Ireland
hallowed by Gaelic bards and sentimental
tenors.

Her first brush with the drama, accord-
ing to the record, came off when she was
a wee somebody of four, and did a spot of
declaiming before a town hall packed with
friends and townspeople. Some rumors
insist she reeled off "Shamus O'Brien's
Speech Before the House of Lords," which
opens, if you recall:

"My lords, if you ask me, if in a
lifetime

I committed a treason or thought any
crime . . ."

The contrast between the speaker and
the speech brought
down the house in
unrestrained huzzas
that she cried and fled
from the stage, with-
out going farther.

At seven, she re-
sumed her career. At
£iine, she turned trou-
badour, teaming up
twith a band of rustic
jpierrots. Distraught

The Irish Girl who made
an instantaneous hit in
Goodbye, Mr. Chips is
now in Hollywood to
stay. Her next picture
is Pride and Prejudice

JOHN R. FRANCHEY

kinsmen spotted her on a bandstand
munching the top layer of a box of choc-
olates she had won as a first prize.

After this excitement, the family moved
to England, where, it was hoped, she would
become attached to books, settle down to
study and wind up a school teacher. The
portents loomed bright. In composition
she was nothing short of nifty. Likewise
in French. There were the usual awards.
Matriculated at the University of London,
she went ahead and finished, magnum cum
laude. Next she tried a French univer-
sity, where she was to polish off her skir-
mish with learning.

Here in the South of France she made
up her mind. Teaching was not for her.
She fled Grenoble University, traipsed on
home and made the
announcement:

"It's the stage for
me.

You could have
knocked the Garsons
over with a French
quatrain at the news.
Before the collect-
ive family opposition
could be mustered up,

she took sick. Influenza. A two-month
siege and the medicine men announced
that the patient herself was balking
recovery.

"She doesn't seem to care one way or
the other," the family doctor insisted.
"Something will have to be done —
quickly."

Mrs. Garson read the warning a-right.
At the bedside, then and there, she gave
the stage, and especially the patient, her
blessings. Recovery was almost instan-
taneous.

Getting onto the stage was something
else. She haunted the producing offices,
took with grace and tolerance the slings
and arrows of the haughty buffers who
always wound up with:

"If you've had no experience, what on
earth are you doing calling on us? This
office is busy with production, not in-
struction."

Smarting under scores of these taunts,
she turned to the business world. She was
lucky enough to land a slick job in an
advertising office, so slick, in fact, that in
a month she had a shiny desk and three
telephones. But her heart wasn't in the
work. By her lonesome, she waged a cam-
paign for the increased consumption of a
certain kind of face powder while her mind
was roaming backstage.

'^Finally I just chucked it," she explains.
r Grim and desperate, she called on the
managers once more. Through a brother
of a chum of hers, she managed to get an
introduction to the London manager of
Sir Barrie Jackson's Birmingham Reper-
tory Theatre. Face to face with the great
man, she didn't spare the horses, but told
him what happy days were ahead for the
stage, if the Birmingham acquired her
genius. Impressed by her self-assurance,
not to mention her earnest green eyes, the
impresario decided to let her do Shirley
Kaplan in the Elmer Rice play, Street
Scene. She wore a black wig over that
Florentine hair, but she was as happy as
a sparrow. Street Scene gave way to a
part in George Bernard Shaw's Too True
■to Be Good, a performance which charmed
the critics. Ensconced in a hit play and
apparently headed for the stratosphere, she
bumped into tonsilitis, was forced to drop
out. Recovered, she tried London again.
This invasion was heartbreaking. No
parts. Not even any audiences with the
managers. Nothing but despair.

She was resting one day in the lobby of
a club wondering whether she wasn't
really a silly fugitive from a French class-
room when Sylvia Thompson, the novelist,
sashayed up, all agog.

"My dear, you're just the person I need
in my new play. You've got what the part
wants — freshness and lift. It's tailored
for a younger Gertrude Lawrence. Are
you interested?"

The Garson girl shook herself, came to
life and said, nonchalantly, "Why, yes. I
think I'd like to be in your play."

The opus was called The Golden Arrow.
It was a forlorn flop. But not for Greer
Garson. Came a half-dozen plays in which
she was asked to appear. Even the British
Broadcasting Company took notice and
starred her in television productions,
classical things for the most part.

•34

She was cavorting in Gilbert Miller's
Old Music, when Louis B. Mayer, boss of
M-G-M, came to London town. He had
come on company business, but the touts
sailed into him. They got him down.

"You've just got to see Garson in Old
Music. She's wonderful," they bombarded
him from all sides.

He saw the show, and signed her up the
next morning on a long-term contract.

■ Hollywood did not exactly strew flow-
ers in her path when she arrived.

"For months I champed at the bit, wait-
ing for the role that never came," she tells
about it now.

Then Sam Wood was assigned to direct
Goodbye, Mr. Chips. Robert Donat had
been decided on as "Chips" months before.
But no amount of searching had uncov-
ered the heroine of the story, the woman
with that strange interior light which
changed Mr. C's life.

This same Mr. Wood was running
through a score of "long-shot" screen tests
one particular afternoon when there
flashed across his sensibilities that phan-
tom of delight with the impossible name,
Greer Garson.

"Strike me pink, if it ain't Mrs. Chips,"
he said, in effect. "Fetch her here."

Which is how a woman with flame-
colored hair, an alabaster face and an as-
tonished heart, by temperament a pixie,
rescued herself from oblivion and landed
herself a role in the picture which became
one of the sensations of 1939.

The biggest hat you can find is what
you need for this summer on the shore.
Ann Rutherford likes sea shells for
beach jewelry and a white bathing suit

Meddle! Meddle! Meddle! Goodness only knows why, but this busy neighbor
does it plenty! She criticizes you for this. She criticizes you for that. And glory,
what a spot you're in — if she looks at your little angel and finds her dressed in
dingy, tattle-tale gray!

Don't get mad — just get wise! For no matter how hard you rub and rub, some
soaps are so weak-kneed they simply can't budge all the dirt out of clothes. So
hurry to the grocer's and switch to the soap that doesn't give dirt a chance! Switch
to Fels-Naptha— golden bar or golden chips'!

Then parade the baby in style! Arid prick up your ears— whenever that meddler
comes around. For Fels-Naptha's richer golden soap and. gentle, dirt-loosening naptha,
working as a well-balanced team, make tattle-tale gray give up in despair. They
get clothes honestly clean all the wtay through. So sunny- white and sweet —it's a
thrill to have even a meddler notice— to hear her sing your praises to the skies!

Now — Fels-Naptha brings you 2 grand
ways to banish "Tattle -Tale Gray"!

"Use the golden bar for all bar-s<bap jobs. It's just the best
ever! Use the golden chips whereve.1*- you use box-soap. They're
HUSKIER flakes— not puffed up AWith air like flimsy, sneezy
powders. And now they've got\ a new suds-builder that
makes oodles of rich, busy suds. Isimply grand for washing
machines." I

COPR. 1940, FELS ft CO.

Play SillY-DillY
With Ginger Rogers

■ Silly-Dilly is Hollywood's newest
game. You hear it all over the town
... on movie sets, in night clubs, in the
homes of stars.

Because Hollywood Magazine likes
games, we pass it along to you. Because
Ginger Rogers likes pretty costume jew-
elry, she took time out between her last
picture, Ths Primrose Path, and her next
one, Lucky PuHners, and picked the stun-
ning prizes which make this one of the

Win Big
Prizes

pieces, which will turn the simplest dress
into a striking costume. Many stars this
year are wearing simple sheath gowns,
depending on heavy, bulky necklaces and
bracelets for individuality. Certainly here
is a chance in a lifetime to have for your
own a handsome addition to your ward-
robe at no cost. Josef's strikingly original
designs, as well as his careful workmanship,
have won him distinction in Hollywood,
and here is your chance to own duplicates of

3rd Prize

most exciting contests we have run to date . . .
and Hollywood Magazine is famous for hand-
some prizes and contests that are really fun.

■ The fascinating awards, shown on this page,
are from the studio of Josef of Hollywood,
a leading designer of costume jewelry for stars
and studios. Nothing less than full color re-
production could do justice to these lovely

the lovely pieces which have found favor with
a discriminating actress of the screen. In addi-
tion, this is a tempting opportunity for you to
win a gift directly from Ginger Rogers.

Read the instructions carefully, take a good
look at the beautiful prizes, then fill in the
coupon on page 38 and mail it promptly. You
have until June 15 to get your answer into the
mail.

Detail of the. pendant, showing the
exquisite workmanship on the first
prize. The pendant slips off the neck-
lace and may be worn as a lapel pin

FIRST PRIZE— A stunning set of neck-
lace, bracelet and earrings, fashioned from
heavy leaves and shining metal threads,
supports glowing stones the color of ame-
thysts. (Retail value, $75.00)

SECOND PRIZE— Massive, beautifully
designed settings encircle deep purple
stones that glow richly from necklace and
bracelet. (Retail value, $50.00)

THIRD PRIZE— Huge, delicately fash-
ioned drums of exquisite workmanship
dangle from the heavy necklace and
matching bracelet of silvery metal in an-
tique finish. (Retail value, $25.00)

FOURTH PRIZES— Two heavy loops,
caught at the clasp by massive leaves sup-
port the richly glittering stones. Two
lucky winners in this division each will
receive one of these handsome necklaces.

FIFTH PRIZES— Two winners in this di-
vision will receive a striking lapel pin.
The big, spreading leaf supports a vivid
cluster of stones.

SDCTH PRIZES— Big hollow filagree balls
swing from the weight necklace which will
delight three winners.

SEVENTH PRIZES— Four necklaces of
shining leaves are waiting for four prize
winners who turn in best answers in this
division.

EIGHTH PRIZES— Polished metal mar-
bles and big clinking rings make a smart
modern choker. Five of these gay gadgets
are waiting for five winners.

NINTH PRIZES— Stunning lapel pin of
leaf, jewel and bee is made doubly gay by
additional small bees. Five of these en-
gagingly different sets will delight five
more winners.

TENTH PRIZES— Long lariats of heavy
metal may be looped in a dozen different

Three fights a day . . . .

Those upsetting "scenes"— those long-drawn-out conflicts about eating— do not
have to happen. Countless mothers have proved with Clapp's Strained and Chopped
Foods that such troubles can be avoided. They've shown how important it is to offer
foods whose flavors and textures please the baby and suit his stage of development.

Or three happy meals?

Babies take to Clapp's!

They like the flavors— special vegetables bred, grown, cooked, and lightly seasoned

to please the taste of babies. (And they test high in vitamins and minerals, too.)

They like the textures— not too coarse for easy handling, nor too fine for exercise.

They like the variety— more kinds than any other brand offers.

They like the pleasant placid transition from Strained Foods to Chopped Foods— the

same good garden-fresh flavors they've always known.

• Any wonder Clapp's know what babies like? Doctors and mothers have been giving

them tips about it for almost 20 years! Clapp's is the oldest baby foods house, and the

only one of any importance that makes nothing else.

17 Strained Varieties
for Young Babies

12 Chopped Varieties
for Toddlers

Glapp's Baby Foods

OKAYED BY DOCTORS AND BABIES

UZ SERVED WE BAD NEWS WifH THE COFFEE f

1. "Sure, it's a fine house this is!" blurts
out the just-hired Lizzie. "That old kitch-
en drain is stopped up tight!"

3. Down the drain goes Dranol And it

gets down deep — digs out all the clog-
ging muck — clears the drain thoroughly !

■—

2. "A stopped-up drain?" inquires a tact-
ful guest. "I know the answer to that
one! We'll telephone for some Dranol"

4. "Drano not only cleans drains — it keeps
'em clean!" smiles the guest. "Use a tea-
spoonful at night after dishes are done!"

P. S. After the dishes— use a teaspoonful of Drano
to guard against clogged drains. Never
over 25^ at grocery, drug, hardware stores.

Drano

USE DRANO DAILY

TO KEEP

DRAINS CLEAN

CLEANS CLOGGED DRAINS

Copr. 1940, Tbe DrackettCo.

ways to form one of the most unusual of
necklaces. Six of these are waiting for six
bright people.

THE RULES

1. This contest is open to all readers of
Hollywood Magazine with the ex-
ception of employees of Fawcett Publica-
tions and their families.

2. All entries must be postmarked no later
than June 15, 1940.

3. Editors of Hollywood Magazine will
be the sole judges. The judges' decisions
are to be final, and no correspondence
will be carried on concerning letters sub-
mitted in the contest.

4. Contestants may submit as many en-
tries as they wish, but each entry should
be written or printed on the coupon pro-
vided for that purpose.

5. Awards will be made for entertaining
quality and originality in the Silly-Dillies
submitted.

6. Neatness will be considered in the
selection of winning entries.

7. Duplicate prizes will be awarded in case
of ties.

HOW TO ENTER

Silly-Dilly is a question and answer
game, and it is lots of fun, even if you do
not have the added interest of winning a
handsome prize.

For instance, one person says, "What is
a Silly-Dilly for a studio on fire?" One
answer would be a "hot lot." Or "What
is a Silly-Dilly for a studio stage in the
rain?" The answer is "wet set." And what
would be a spotlight on that same wet set?
A "damp lamp," of course.

Now you play it. Find a two-word de-
scription that rhymes (like "silly" rhymes
with "dilly") for each of the questions
asked. Clip out the coupon below, fill in
your Silly-Dillies after the questions,
make up one of your own about Ginger
Rogers or any other subject you may
fancy . . . and the best Silly-Dillies win!

Silly-Dilly Contest,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway,
New York City.

Here are my answers in Ginger Rogers' Silly-Dilly Contest:
What is a Silly-Dilly for Donald Duck on flypaper?
What is a Silly-Dilly for a star with auburn hair?
What is a Silly-Dilly for a Movie Queen at the South Pole?
And here is my own idea of a good Silly-Dilly:

What is a Silly-Dilly for

Answer

Name

Street

City

State

Hollywood's Strangest
Policies

[Continued from page 21]

They must protect the things that make
movie fans toss jingling coins to the ticket
girls.

That is why Alice Faye has insured her
perfectly smooth complexion for $25,000.
That is why Maureen O'Sullivan has taken
out a large policy, too. Neither one can
go out into the sunlight without wearing
a hat. Their skins tan and freckle easily.
And more than one change of complexion
has affected the making of an important
picture.

That is why Anita Louise's weightiest
worry is gaining excess poundage that
might take away her fragile, delicate
beauty. A $75,000 policy protects her
weight. She would rather remain a dyed
in the wool calorie -counter than be scale -
shy.

Never since the expiration of Greta
Nissen's $100,000 insurance on her beauti-
fully shaped and complexioned back —
against mars, scratches, sunburn, dis-
figurement— has Hollywood had any
policies on backs.

■ Recently Sonja Henie, the ice Pavlowa,
boosted her insurance total to $3,000,-
0C0. The policies include life, sickness, ac-
cident, travel, and property, and make
her the most insured actress in the world.
Of the whole sum, $260,000 protect her
legs. .

And speaking of legs, Betty Grable has
$100,000 worth of insurance that her lovely
limbs won't become scarred, bruised or
disfigured for film work.

However, most of the shapeliest legs
that ever high-heeled down Hollywood
boulevard haven't a cent of insurance on
them today. And they include pairs that
belong to Rita Hayworth, Jean Parker,
Virginia Gilmore, winner of the Physical
Culture Foundation of Hollywood's leg
contest, Martha Raye, Ginger Rogers, and
Bonita Granville. Have I skipped any-
body?

And Marlene Dietrich is no exception.

"I've never insured my legs," she told
me as we chatted in Producer Joe Paster-
nak's bungalow on the Universal lot "I
showed them only when the roles called
for it — in The Blue Angel and in Destry
Rides Again. There are thousands and
millions of women in America who have
beautiful legs. They are nothing out of
the ordinary.

"This 'most beautiful legs' publicity is
so much ballyhooey. Of course, well-
shaped legs are no handicap. There are
stories that Lloyds once carried a policy
for $1,000,000 on my legs. But that was
publicity that never had a leg to stand on."

La Dietrich put her foot on a moot point.

Legs aren't what they once were.
Actresses who can only fill stockings well
and who have nothing but pretty faces
and figures don't become great stars.

Today voice is much more important.
And voice-insurance is one of the most
popular brands in movieland.

Perhaps Andy Devine's gravel-voice is
not the best treatment for a headache,

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but to Andy and his legion of followers,
it is worth $75,000 worth of insurance.
Years ago when he fell on a stick and
injured his throat, his voice took on this
rasping foghorn quality.

Andy has never had his tonsils removed
and can't now, because, as he says, "If I
had any kind of operation the policy would
be void automatically."

And Bing Crosby faces a similar prob-
lem. Recently he renewed his $100,000
policy on his romantic throaty baritone.
Most of the Lloydian policies are for
periods of not more than a year and must
be re-written each year.

The node on his larynx — the irregular
growth that gives his voice the husky
quality — cannot be removed — that is, not
unless he wants to nullify his policy.

Nelson Eddy, Jeanette MacDonald,
Allan Jones, and Dorothy Lamour have
policies that run up to almost $100,000 on
their singing voices. Deanna Durbin's
insurance is said to be $500,000. However,
a prominent Hollywood insurance broker
told me that this figure covers her totally
and includes disfigurement, permanent
disability, health, as well as loss of voice.

"Deanna's policy really dictates stern
orders. She loves to go swimming in the
ocean, but she can't. Almost all sports
are out. She can ride a horse, but she
cannot jump. She can play tennis. But
she cannot ski, toboggan, skate, play
hockey, polo, or soccer even if she wanted
to."

Then there's Sandra Gahle, wife of
Director Mitchell Leisen and soprano in
the San Francisco Opera Company, about
whom "Believe It Or Not" Ripley hasn't
yet heard. She paid the premiums on a
new policy for $125,000 that insures her
top note — the E above high C.

| The policy David O. Selznick had
written for Margaret Tallichet, now
wife of Director William Wyler, is humor-
ous in retrospect.

A few years ago when Selznick was con-
sidering Miss Tallichet for the choice
Scarlett role in Gone With the Wind, he
insured the Southern accent that had come
with her from Dallas, Texas, for $75,000!

If you recall, the Vivien Leigh Scarlett,
as English as tea and crumpets, didn't
throw around a single "you all" and
learned her Southern accent in Hollywood.

It isn't simple for stars to get unusual
coverage insurance. First they get a "tip
of the toes to the top of the head" going
over from doctors chosen by the insurance
company. Then "Safety engineers," so
called, investigate the conditions under
which they work in pictures, their credit
ratings, their friends, their drinking habits,
and combine their findings with those of
the doctors.

Then the answer is "O. K." or "No."

■ Animal actors as well as human ones
must submit to physical examinations
to get their policies.

Daisy, the shaggy, droopy-eared little
dog you see in the Blondie pictures, had to
get a veterinarian's clean bill of health
before she could be insured for $50,000
by Lloyds.

"As to breed, Daisy is very miscellane-

ous," Rennie Renfro, the dog's master, told
me. "I paid 50 cents for her, but today
she's worth her weight in insurance
policies."

This protection came as the result of the
death of a former kennel-mate of Daisy —
another film dog who contracted pneu-
monia when he had to dive into cold water
while acting in a picture.

This policy isn't exactly what Daisy
would call a new "leash" on life. She can
no longer run loose when out with her
trainer. But there is some consolation.
If Daisy has to do a Weissmuller in any
pictures, she gets specially heated water,
a warm sound stage, and the gentle care
of a baby.

A lot of odd stories are told about Anna
May, educated elephant who made her
film debut in 1916. But probably the best
is the one about her work in Gunga Din.

Anna May has a disability clause in her
insurance policy, you see. One blazing
hot day while the RKO company was on
location at the foot of Mount Whitney, she
was called upon to re-enact a scene she
had done half a dozen times before.

Came time for shooting, and Anna May
stood stamping the ground with her heavy
feet and groaning deep elephantine groans.
Sam Jaffe, Cary Grant, and Vic McLaglen
wondered with the rest of the cast.

"She's sick," said her trainer. "She's
through for today." He notified the insur-
ance company. That was that. A few days
later a check arrived in Anna May's name.
It was for disability, and on the back of
it was scribbled the reason for compensa-
tion of $21.08: "Severe sunburn."

H Lloyds will always bet against twins,
but they will not insure a person
against getting married, despite informa-
tion to the contrary. Hollywood's eligible
bachelors and bachelorettes get a flat re-
fusal when asking for anti-marriage insur-
ance on the grounds that Lloyds "does not
wish to discourage natural social practices
and considers celibates with distrust."

| Two things Hollywood's insurance
policies taboo most often for stars
while their pictures are in production are
polo and piloting of privately owned air-
planes. Because of danger from falls,
bumps, or cracks on the pate, Tim Holt,
Doug Fairbanks, Jr., Spencer Tracy, and
Robert Montgomery must play their polo
between pictures or not at all. Allan
Jones can ride a horse if he doesn't jump
it. Joan Bennett can't mount one under
any condition.

Jimmy Stewart, Wallace Beery, Brian
Aherne, Ken Maynard, Bob Cummings,
and Clark Gable must adopt a hands-off
policy so far as handling planes is con-
cerned.

■ Lloyds of London will write any kind
of insurance, ranging from guarantees
that it won't rain on the night of a
premiere, to guarantees that sun will be
shining when a movie company is on
location, to insurance against damage of
studio properties — such as the $100,000
policy on Cecil B. DeMille's bungalow,
the first of its kind built in Hollywood,
which now is standing on the Paramount
lot.

Personal property insurance — for ex-
ample, the $900 policy on the well-known
monocle of Eric Von Stroheim — is popular.
Harold Lloyd's 24-year old, shell-rimmed
glasses — the ones that never had any glass
in them when he wore them in pictures —
are insured for $25,000.

Edgar Bergen's Charlie McCarthy can
get only one kind of life insurance —
protection against fire!

"Dictator" Charles Chaplin has no poli-
cies covering his baggy screen costume,
but he guards it carefully. His sideways
feet which have added laughs to millions
of reels are insured for $15,000, however.

Oliver Hardy, the most physically repre-
sented of the team Laurel and Hardy, has
to watch the scales — but not with the
same purpose as Hollywood actresses. He
can't afford to lose weight because much
of his comic quality — and his contract —
is dependent upon his girth. That is why
he has a $50,000 policy against possible
lean years.

H Feet, weight, and eyes are not the
latest in insurables — as young Tom
Rutherfurd, M-G-M find, informed me the
other day as we talked on the set of
Hooray, I'm Alive:

"You see, I spell my name Rutherfurd
now. I had it legally changed from
Rutherfoord to distinguish it from one
branch of the family tree. Lloyds accepted
my application for a policy to protect me
from having my name misspelled in print.
They agreed to pay me $5 every time
Rutherfurd was spelled the old way —
Rutherfoord."

Tom pulled a ragged clipping from his
wallet.

"See this? It's a write-up about me
from my home town paper. The writer
forgot and spelled my name the old home
town way ten times. That means a new
pair of riding breeches for me — on Lloyds!"

| No matter what type of insurance you
might want, you can find it in Holly-
wood. It may be a policy that expires in
15 minutes — perhaps one that protects
the voice of your favorite singing star
for a radio broadcast. It may cover a
single railroad trip— like the $1,000,000
policy that assured RKO that Raymond
Massey would arrive safely and on time
from New York to Eugene, Oregon, where
much of Abe Lincoln in Illinois was filmed.
Or it may run a year or more.

Every day policies die. Every day others
are born. Because, of the 5700 varieties
of unusual professions in the motion
picture capital, it is natural that there
will be unusual insurance.

No matter how crazy the policies may
seem on the surface — whether they be the
kind on a Southern accent or on a man's
excessive poundage — they are under-
standable.

Zorina must protect her $250,000 box-
office toes. Deanna Durbin must protect
her thrilling voice; Sonja Henie, her legs.
Studios must protect their investments in
stars.

So there is good old-fashioned business
judgment behind all of Hollywood's oddest
policies!

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r--

No little surprised was
Eddie when he saw himself
in a film the first time

■ Eddie Albert, the boy who is
the pride and joy of Warner
Brothers' Studios at the moment,
got the shock of his young and
active life the night he attended
the preview of his first picture,
Brother Rat, and took a terrified
gander at himself as he paraded
across the screen. It was more
than a shock. It was a catastrophe.
He says so himself.

"Now, first off, I'm not dumb
enough to think that I can ever
give Robert Taylor, Errol Flynn
and a score of others a race in the Good
Looks Sweepstakes. I've seen myself in
the mirror too many times to carry around
a notion like that, but goshamighty, I
can't believe to this day that the plug-
ugly I saw on the screen looks like me!
The first time I came on the screen I
gave a gasp and slid three inches lower
in my seat. When I ventured a second
look, I gave another
gasp, slid down three
more inches. Before
the first reel had been
unwound I was sit-
ting on the floor.
When the show was
over I beat it for
home, and did some

Eddie's "never again"
couldn't last, so back
he came to Hollywood

AH
About

Albert

By
ED JONESBOY

tall and lofty cussing, because that
guy on the screen who was supposed
to be me wasn't me at all, I thought.
That guy walked around with his brow
all furrowed like the north forty of a
Minnesota farm. He talked out of the
corner of his mouth like a guy leading
a whispering campaign. He scrooged his
neck around like a chicken with a bad
case of pip. The voice and mannerisms
of the reel Eddie Albert were not those of
the real Eddie Albert at all. Or
so it seemed to me. If that was
what the camera did to a guy the
first time out, Lord help him the
second time! What made it all so
strange was that the other mem-
bers of the cast hadn't changed at
all. Talk about the 'transfor-
mations' the ladies get in
beauty parlors! Boy, I cer-
tainly got mine in that
picture! I've never entered a
beauty contest, but I knew I
wasn't as ugly-looking as I
appear in Brother Rat. And
I knew something else, too.
Or so I thought. No motion
picture fan was going to take
kindly to me. I was going to
be a prize bust. I was willing
to bet that the preview notices
the next day would second
the motion in no uncertain
terms. Sure enough, about the first item
I read the next morning was that 'Eddie
Albert had the funniest face outside of a
character in a comic strip!' That was the
blow that laid me low! Well, I said to
myself, they'd never get a chance to laugh
at me again. And I rushed right back to
New York to start rehearsals for The Boys
From Syracuse on the stage.

"When I returned to
New York, the cast
of The Boys From
Syracuse took ex-
treme pains to call my
attention to the 'comic
strip' notice. After
the first week of re-
hearsal I swore that

never again would I make a picture for
dear old Hollywood! But at the end of the
show's run, I went back to take another
crack at the picture business in On Your
Toes. After that I played in Four Wives
and Brother Rat's Baby. And here I am
again in Angel From Texas."

| Eddie's first arrival in New York is
another example of those "longest-
'way-'round-is-the-shortest-way-home"
stories of success. Playing stooge for a
strong man and singing in amateur night
radio shows and stage shows had a great
deal to do with starting him off on a
theatrical career. All this was back in his
Minneapolis High School days when he
was working like a busy bee to get "Excel -
lents" on his report card. When he wasn't
working on his books, he was working in
a drug store doing a bit of fancy soda-
jerking and sandwich making so that he
could buy theatre tickets. Occasionally
he managed to horn in on a program and
did well enough for the news to be bruited
about that, given a chance, he could earn
a fairly decent reputation as an enter-
tainer. Eddie began to believe most of
what he heard about himself when he
wrangled himself a job helping a strong
man in a professional act. Mr. Bulging
Muscles, when he wasn't lifting 1000-pound
weights and tearing telephone books in
twain, used to fill his helper's ears with
exciting stories of the theatre.
"After high school," Eddie relates, "I

entered the University of Minnesota, and
stayed there for two years until my feet
got so itchy for Broadway that I had to
quit. Arriving in the Big Town to seek
my share of fame and fortune I was
amazed by the number of other young
gents with the same idea as mine. Those
big opportunities the strong man had told
me about back in Minneapolis failed to
materialize. If they did, some other guy
got there first. It soon came to pass that
I was grabbing at Cakes-and-Coffee jobs
to keep alive. I'd sing at political rallies
and holiday celebrations for amounts
ranging from one to four bucks. Now and
then I'd knock off a night club appearance
or a spot on a radio program. Finally,
though, one of those big opportunities did
come steaming around the fabled corner,
and I climbed aboard. Maybe you heard
me over NBC on the Honeymooners
program. I was the Eddie of the Grace
and Eddie duo. Well, with that job
cinched, and me eating regularly I began
to plan my attack on the theatre. I got
a walk-on bit in Oh, Evening Star. The
only sad feature about this initial try in
front of the footlights was that Oh, Even-
ing Star failed to twinkle as it should
at the box-office. When it fell with a dull
and tragic thud I was ready to pack up
my turkey and thumb my way back to the
Minnesota prairies, but before that could
happen I decided to put on a sales talk
to a manager of a summer stock company.
I must have been convincing because he

finally succumbed and gave me parts in
Personal Appearance and Charm."

With the summer stock season over,
Eddie, his stage ambitions soaring sky-
high by now, got himself tested for the
role of Bing Edwards, one of the leads
in Brother Rat, a college play which
George Abbott was preparing to launch
with a comparatively unknown cast. To
Eddie's utmost surprise he got the part.
"It must have been as great a surprise to
Abbott," Eddie claims, "but he seemed
perfectly satisfied — and who was I to
argue with a famous Broadway producer?"

Brother Rat proved a riot in the sticks
during its tryout period, and moving to
Broadway, hit the box-office jackpot right
off the bat. It had an 18-months run.
There was no stopping Eddie after that.
Eddie comes within an inch of being a
six-footer. He's better than average
when it comes to singing, and his friends
claim that he can pick out a number of
fancy chords on the black and white
piano keys, that he draws a mean bow on
a violin and can pluck a guitar prac-
tically to pieces if he has a mind to.

As to his eating habits he's somewhat
of a contradiction in diets. He's a vege-
tarian, he says, if he can have meat, and
he's a meat-eater if he can have second-
helpings of vegetables. That's what you
might call straddling the fence — or table —
but it suits Eddie to a T — bone steak with
a side of hashed-brown potatoes.

He's unmarried, and prefers blondes in
case he's run out of brunettes.

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Right, Margaret Lindsay as
she appears in her normal
amount of street make-up.
Below, as she appears in
character make-up for her
part in The House of Seven
Gables. The contrast does
seem to prove beyond any
doubt her claims for make-
up in the interview below

Happy Birthday
To You

By A INN VERXOX

■ "Birthdays can be happy days! Be-
cause you're only as old as you want
to be," vivacious Margaret Lindsay de-
clared, the day we chatted about her part
in Universal's The House of Seven Gables.
And Maggie knows what she's talking
about. She plays Hepzibah Pyncheon, a
pretty girl who becomes a sour, eccentric
old maid as the result of an unhappy love
affair. These two photographs show how
young and how old she can be made to
look — in real or picture life.

"It's not so much what they did to make
me look older," she went on, "as what they
didn't do. It was lack of rouge and lip-
stick that turned the trick."

Of course, there had to be some touches
of make-up for the old maid scenes. Mag-
gie's eyes were too sparkling and young
looking, so the make-up men used a bright
red lipstick and a fine
pencil to draw a hair-
line along the rim of
the lids. This effec-
tively dulled her eyes'
sparkle, and gave them
a tired, listless look. She
was allowed to use
mascara for the pic-
tures of Hepzibah as a
young girl — but Hep-
zibah the old maid had
powdered lashes and
eyelids, to add years to

DO YOU LOOK AS YOUNG

AS YOU FEEL?
Or does a dry skin, the wrong
make-up, or an unflattering
hairstyle age you? Ann Vernon,
HOLLYWOOD'S Beauty Editor,
will be glad to help you with
any of these problems. Write
her today and tell her your
troubles. Be sure to enclose a
stamped, self-addressed en-
velope for your reply, and send
your letter to Ann Vernon,
HOLLYWOOD Magaiine, ISOI
Broadway, New York City.

the eyes. And her eyebrows were brushed
straight down to make them look thicker,
then powdered for that ancient look. . . .
Her skin looked too fresh and firm, so
they used a gray-white shade of powder
applied heavily, to give it a dead look and
crepy texture. They applied no rouge and
no lipstick. Instead of using vaseline or a
pomade to keep her lips soft and sheenful
looking, they powdered over her mouth,
to block out its youthful outline, make it
look gray and colorless.

Most older women tend to have dark
shadows under the eyes, and a shadowy
line at the throat that betrays a double
chin. Margaret Lindsay found that she
could fake part of the double chin by
holding her head primly, stiffly erect,
pulled back on her throat, so that the flesh
folded up against itself. The rest the
make-up experts ac-
complished, following
the shadows caused by
this posture with alter-
nating dark and light
foundation creams, to
further the illusion. A
bit of dark foundation
cream blended skill-
fully under the eyes
gave the impression of
dark circles — but still
looked natural.

Margaret Lindsay's

hair is so soft and sheenful you just know
it's been brushed and brushed — fifteen
minutes daily is her average, she told me.
But, surprisingly enough, she didn't have
to use a dulling rinse or powder for the
picture. That severe hairstyle, and the
single streak of gray was considered aging
enough!

"There's an awful lot to this business of
feeling old," Margaret told me. "If you
think '45,' you act that way — and vice
versa. I found myself even changing my
voice from a light girlish one to a dead,
rusty, unused tone. Lucky for me, they
shot almost all the older shots at one time
— I'd have gotten all confused otherwise."

B Smells had a lot to do with her mood,
too, Maggie found. When she wanted
to feel young and fresh, she'd spray her
hair and skin with a flowery cologne of
the spicier kind, like carnation. And for
the old maid shots, she wore no perfume
at all.

I don't imagine many of you want to
use these tricks to make yourselves look
older — but stop and think! The reverse
of them will help you look younger! If a
lack of make-up could make Lindsay look
forty-five, as it did, the proper use of mas-
cara, eyeshadow, rouge and lipstick can
keep you looking as young as you are!

Young eyes shine — so use a reliable eye
lotion to refresh your eyes morning and
night; use a creamy eyeshadow to darken
the lids, give them sheen, and make your
eyes gleam by contrast; and use mascara,

as Lindsay did, to darken your lashes so
they'll set off your eyes, as black velvet
does a magnificent jewel . . .

I'll be glad to send you the name of a
super-refreshing eye lotion I've found a
grand beauty aid. It clears and freshens
eyes that are tired and bloodshot or wa-
tery from exposure to sun, wind and cig-
arette smoke. It's a true friend for sooth-
ing eyes inflamed by a crying jag, and will
help to wash out those troublesome bits
of dust and cinders that just will get into
your eyes on these breezy summer days.
Don't even think of going out in the eve-
ning without using it to refresh your eyes
and make them look young and eager to
go places. Of course the lotion is harm-
less, made from an oculist's prescription.
Sold in a convenient purse-size dropper-
stopper bottle for 20 cents, with larger
dressing table sizes at 60 cents and $1.
Only two drops of the lotion and sixty
seconds of your time are necessary for
clearer, younger-looking eyes.

Purse size, too, is another eye beauty
aid — a cunning little mascara compact.
The mascara comes in a tube, is creamy
smooth to apply, even without water. Use
it at the office when you're putting on a
fresh face, or at home, at your dressing
table. The mascara won't smear into ugly
under-eye circles, nor run when you cry.
Nor will it bead artificially on your lashes.
But it will darken your lashes naturally,
and give them a soft, lustrous sheen at
the same time. It comes in blue, black and
brown shades, and costs only 10 cents.

■ Margaret Lindsay and the studio
make-up artists used a tinted founda-
tion cream to create under-eye circles and
the illusion of a double chin. But you can
use the same make-up foundation to blot
out those telltale circles, and to make your
throat line seem as firm and youthful as
a teenster's! Or to slim down a wide nose,
shorten a long one, or soften a square jaw.
Just remember that darker shades of
foundation cream (with powder to match)
will throw an offending feature into the
shadow, make it less noticeable, while a
lighter one will bring it forward, and high-
light it. Use the light shades to hide cir-
cles, to fill out hollow cheeks, and to bring
forward a receding chin. Darker founda-
tion will help cut off one of those double
chins! Your posture can help, too. In-
stead of pulling your chin back, and hold-
ing it there primly, carry your head high,
with chin held proudly. That will take
up the slack skin, and smooth out the
wrinkles!

Straight from Hollywood, where it's the
favorite of most of the stars, comes a
tinted powder base that you can buy for
a quarter almost everywhere. It has the
unique advantage of being color-filtered.
That means it is free of all aging gray un-
dertones. The foundation gives your skin
a youthful glow — under both artificial and
natural light! Use it to brighten up a sal-
low skin, to give color to a pale one, and
to serve as a protective base for your
powder. It makes that important cosmetic
item go on smoothly, with a velvety finish

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rded to nex

In a search for America's most
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winners will come to Hollywood,
all expenses paid, for a week of
unforgettable fun — living at the
world -famed Ambassador Hotel,
with thrilling trips through mo-
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Earl Carroll, internationally-
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club producer, and Dan Kelley,
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solely on the basis of figure-beau-
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Catalinas alone are color-coor-
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See these suits now at your near-
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For contest entry blank and all de-
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• Also ask for FLAME-GLO ROUGE in harmonizing colors!

BACKACHE,

LEG PAINS MAY
BE DANGER SIGN

Of Tired Kidneys

If backache and leg pains are making you miser-
able, don't just complain and do nothing about them.
Nature may be warning you that your kidneys need
attention.

The kidneys are Nature's chief way of taking excess
acids and poisonous waste out of the blood. They help
most people pass about 3 pints a day.

If the 15 miles of kidney tubes and filters don't
work well, poisonous waste matter stays in the blood.
These poisons may start nagging backaches, rheu-
matio pains, leg pains, loss of pep and energy, getting
up nights, swelling, puffiness under the eyes, head-
aches and dizziness. Frequent or scanty passages with
smarting and burning sometimes shows there is some-
thing wrong with your kidneys or bladder.

that stays clear for hours. The powder
base is smooth enough to spread easily,
without pulling the delicate tissues. And
yet you'll find it thick enough to hide
those under-eye circles, summertime
freckles, and occasional blemishes. There
are four skin-flattering shades of the foun-
dation to choose from and experiment
with. Want to know more?

H Too white or too yellow a powder, or
the wrong shades of rouge and lipstick
can make you look older — and so can an
utter lack of make-up. Choosing the cor-
rect shades can be easy — if you don't be-
lieve it, write me for the name of a brand
of cosmetics that is especially keyed to
your coloring. Right now the manufac-
turer is offering a try-out kit of powder,
rouge and lipstick, harmonized to each
other and to you, for the small sum of
55 cents. It's a bargain if I know one!
Because the powder is of the silky tex-
ture that keeps your skin looking soft
and smooth, the rouge spreads easily,
without blotching, and fairly defies de-
tection once it's on, and the lipstick is
both creamy and lasting. (Be sure to
brush away excess powder with a wisp of
cotton, because too heavy a coat, or traces
of powder around the eyes, will age you!)
The shades are easy to select — tell me your
coloring and I'll prescribe the one for
you.

Have you ever noticed how broken
cuticle and hangnails can make your
hands look old and ugly? It's foolish to
let them, because your hands are terribly
noticeable all the time. You shouldn't
cut the cuticle, of course, because that
will only make it tougher and more per-
sistent in growing down over the nail.
But you should push it back with your
towel every time you wash your hands,
and you should use a cuticle remover, to

soften it, so it can be easily pushed back
off the nail, and the dead particles wiped
away. I'll be glad to send you the name
of one that works quickly and gently,
without drying out either the nails or the
cuticle. Use it weekly, to keep your hands
as pretty and young looking as your face.
You'll find a 10-cent size of it in dime
stores, and economy sizes for 35 cents in
drug stores. Do be sure to write me for
its name. It, too, comes from out Holly-
wood-way!

| The House of Seven Gables is a cos-
tume picture, so naturally Margaret
Lindsay couldn't wear colored nail polish
in it. And as the older Hepzibah, she had to
file her nails sensibly, straight across. But
in real life, she wears her nails middling
long, to make her fingers look slenderer,
and is a devotee of all the newest and
smartest shades of nail polish. I know she
would like the shade I've been testing
today. It's a warm, warm pink, the shade
of pink lemonade, or a ripe watermelon.
It has a sheen that practically defies dish-
washing, and is so sturdy a polish that you
can wear it almost a week without its
chipping. And the price is only 10 cents!
You get a lot of a very fine polish for your
money. Let me tell you the name.

Write me before June 15th, please, if
you would like the names of any of
the products mentioned in this article.
Be sure to enclose a stamped, self-
addressed envelope for my reply, and
address your letter to Ann Vernon,
Beauty Editor, HOLLYWOOD Mag-
aiine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

Adventures With a 20 Mule Team

[Continued jrom -page 27]

These wagons, by the way, are the
originals used back in the early '90's. They
weigh 10,000 pounds per each and carry
60,000 pounds of borax, so you can see
these babies are no kiddie cars out for a
romp! The borax, so some of the old-
timers around Furnace Creek Inn told
me, used to be hauled clear to Mohave
at a price of 50 cents a ton and at a profit
at that!

We reach the first water hole safe and
sound and climb down from the wagons
and plunge into the water which was
supposed to be heated, but wasn't on
account of the heater going busted. Well,
madam, I thought I was a goner for sure
when that ice-cold water closed over me.
Beery, and Leo Carrillo who plays the role
of "swamper" to Beery, didn't like it
either, judging from the unorthodox
phrases they used when they climbed out.
Our boots with the heavy metal weights
on the soles made it quite a problem when
it came to getting on dry land again. So,
when no one was looking, I unscrewed
mine and tossed the weights back into the
water hole. I didn't mind dying with my

boots on but when I did I wanted to be on
terra firma.

M With a camera traveling behind us on
specially built wheels to negotiate the
sands, we made the second water hole be-
fore Director Thorpe called it a day. We
might have made another one but a U.S.
bombing squadron suddenly dove down
from the skies above the valley and
swooped over us to investigate the strange
sight of a 20 mule team pulling borax
wagons across the desert for the first time
in 35 years. After the planes landed
Director Thorpe had to take time out to
explain to the pilots that a motion picture
was in progress, and we had to take time
out to pacify the frightened mules which
were certainly kicking up their heels. It
was about this time that our first casualty
occurred. Leo Carrillo, walked over to his
favorite mule, Ezra, gave him a couple of
fine Spanish pats on the rump, whispered
nice nothings in his ear and then turned
away to speak to Beery. Which was just
what Ezra was waiting for, apparently. At
any rate Ezra wiggled around, bared his

teeth and sank 'em deep into Leo's hind
pants pocket! Leo's yell of pain could
have been heard clear over the other side
of the Panamint Mountains, it was that
loud and clear. Dr. L. Hershberg, the phy-
sician who accompanied the company on
location, carted Leo back to Furnace Creek
Inn and patched him up. The next six
meals Leo ate, he ate standing up!

By the way, Leo's announced plans to
run for governor of California at the next
election may be changed by a Federal
appointment. Seems that when he was in
Washington, D. C. a while back he dis-
cussed with President Roosevelt the
possibility of becoming a good-will am-
bassador, without portfolio, to the Latin
American countries, thus following in the
footsteps of the late Will Rogers. Leo,
you know, is descended from one of Cali-
fornia's oldest and most noted families
and is considered the ideal man to bring
about a better understanding with the
countries to the south.

With the bombing squadron up in the air
again, Director Thorpe blows his quitting -
time whistle and we pile into cars, the
mules into special trucks, and head for
Furnace Creek Inn, our headquarters.

■ That night more than 400 CCC boys,
located in Death Valley, were personal

guests of Muleskinner Beery. He obtained
a print of Viva Villa, and presented it
along with a number of other subjects in
a picture show especially arranged for the
youngsters. After that Ye Host took a
score of the boys up in his private plane
for a sky ride in the moonlight. Wally
has one of the speediest private ships in
the United States and he pushes it along
at a cruising speed of 225 miles per hour.

Maybe you won't believe it, but one of
the best friends I had on location was a
100-year-old Indian by the name of Sho-
shone Johnny. And a smart old ex-
warrior he was, too. Johnny went on
location every day while I was there and
got his greatest thrill listening to the car
radios. He seemed to be fascinated by the
war events in Europe or, as he put it, "men
making big fight across the water."

"What I don't understand," he told me
one noon during lunch, "is that all this
killing is all right, while me, for many
years medicine man for my tribe, lost my
job when too many people died and the
tribe wanted to kill me. That's why I
came to Death Valley."

■ We had a sort of respite from below
sea level work the next day due to

cloudy weather. For lack of something
to do I went along with Director Thorpe
and his camera crew to search for some
new and interesting canyon "angles." We
not only found "angles," but we found
something that we all thought vastly bet-
ter. Covering the canyon floor was a
white deposit about six inches deep and
it looked like a million-dollar borax
"strike" for sure! Members of the crew,
including myself, got busy and loaded
several hundred pounds of the stuff into
the cars and took it back to Furnace
Creek where we called in borax experts.
After examining our "million dollar
strike" they gave us the grand let-down.

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Do You Like Ghost Stories?

He came back from the mists of the future, slipping through walls, walking through
locked doors to straighten out the tangled lives he had left behind. Don't miss the
inside story of the camera magic that turns Warner Baxter into a transparent wraith
in earthbound, fantastic tale of a murdered man whose love sheltered his dear ones
after death.

Next Month

July HOLLYWOOD Magazine

NO UNDERARM ODOR AFTER!

TEMPERATURE

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this gruelling test, in the Car-
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direction, Miss M. K. applied
Yodora. Then played deck
tennis for three hours in the
blazing sun! Result . . . not a
hintof underarm odoriThough
amazingly efficient, Yodora
seems as gentle and silky as

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"Nothing but plain ordinary gypsum,"
they said. "And good for nothing but
paving." Woe was me and woe was the
camera crew!

And woe was me again the next after-
noon when I got in the way of the business
end of the nineteenth mule of the 20 mule
team. I can still remember, distinctly and
very painfully, the precise moment when
I began looking for the accident to happen.
Three-thirty it was. I know because I
was sitting near Doug Fowley drying out
after going through another "undehydrat-
ing" process. Doug had pulled his watch
out from a vest pocket, and I asked him
for the time and he said, "Three-thirty,
almost another day and another dollar."
Then I remember I took a couple of steps
in the direction of the southern exposure
of ol' 19 and wham! Something hit me
a smack below my belt. It couldn't have
stunned me more if it had been a stick
of dynamite exploding in my hip pocket.
That danged mule plastered me such
a good one that it lifted me up into
the air and head-first into the iron rim
of the right front wheel of the borax
wagon. When I came to, I looked around
for my legs and was I surprised to see 'em
still sticking on where they belonged!
Then I looked over at ol' 19 and be-

lieve it or not, he had his legs all cocked
for another blast at my broken down
anatomy.

As you may suspect I was through for
the day after that mulish coup de grace.
As a matter of honest fact, I've been
through ever since. I did manage to creep
back to the studio for a day's work with
Noah Beery, Jr., and Anne Baxter, but
my heart wasn't in it, though it was better
than trying to sit down at this typewriter,
at that.

| As for the kind of picture 20 Mule
Team is going to be, you'll have to
take Wally Beery's word for it. He says
it's the best he's ever appeared in and,
as you know, he's appeared in some hum-
dingers. So far as I'm concerned — and
it's been plenty — 20 Mule Team has plenty
of "kick." And I can prove it by my
brand! But all kidding and kicking aside,
after reading the script and after watch-
ing Director Thorpe handle the cast in
some of the most exciting sequences I've
ever seen, I'd say that 20 Mule Team is
going to be a Triple A, Three-Bell pro-
duction. This, of course, is the personal
opinion of your Ex-Death Valley Smitty,
the old Borax Ki'd himself who once again
has suffered for his art.

Heroes Don't Die

[Continued from page 32]

and has shown real talent and acting abil-
ity," says Ben Bard.

"Is he the same type as his father?" I
queried.

"It's a little too soon to say what type
Bill is, and we don't know what Wally
Reid would have been if he had lived
to work in sound pictures. Bill has a
definite personality of his own. Just
now he is going through what I call a
dramatic chemicalization. He knows the
component parts, and now is welding
them together to form a distinct actor's
personality."

Irving Cummings was another of Wally's
great friends, and has known Bill since he
was a tiny boy. "We lived just across
the street from them then. I hadn't seen
the boy for several months until the other
night when I attended one of Ben Bard's
plays. I was both pleased and amazed
with the advancement Bill had made. He
has learned to analyze and evaluate what
he is doing. He's on the right track now,
and working hard at it."

But if Bill is to reach his goal of being
the best actor in his day, this is only half
of the story. He has yet to measure up
to the shining standard set by his own
father, Wallace Reid. And comparison
between them is inevitable. There are
many producers, writers and actors, still
active in the movie industry, who re-
member vividly what a great hero Wally
Reid was on the screen.

"Every motion picture producer in this
town hopes to discover another Wally
Reid," Sam Bischoff told me. "No one
has yet brought to the screen the same
wistful, charming ingratiating quality.

None of the stars today has it to the same
extent that Wally did. You can't explain
a quality like that, or tell anyone how to
get it. The public liked it, and so did we
who worked with him."

Agnes Ayres, who had played with
Wallace Reid in a few pictures, perhaps
came near to analyzing his personality
when she told me: "He was completely
natural with an ease which few actors
have ever attained on the screen. He took
no personal credit for the adoration the
public showed him, accepting it graciously
as a gift, and he tried to show proper
appreciation by giving his fans what they
wanted."

"Never, I believe has an author dis-
covered in the flesh so exactly the hero
of his own stories," says Byron Morgan,
author of many racing stories which were
filmed by Wally.

"Like the hero of my stories, he was
absolutely fearless. Wally was a lover
of speed, and did not hesitate to drive
the fastest car hub to hub with ex-
perienced racing drivers. One day he
was supposed to go into a skid. In the
first take he muffled it, so I walked over
and said, 'What's the matter, Wally, did
you hear the church bells?' He gave
me an odd look, then climbed into the
car and went into the scene again. He
scared us all out of our wits when he
skidded the car over the curb, shearing
off a lamp post and crashing into the side
of a building. With the car practically
demolished, he climbed from the wreckage
and grinned, 'Well, Byron, does that look
like church bells have got me?'

"But that was Wally. He'd try any-

thing and usually succeeded in doing it
better than the best."

"Wally was determined to drive in the
Indianapolis Memorial Day races, and he
almost succeeded. Knowing the studio
would never permit him to race, he sold
them on the idea of letting him go through
formalities of entering up until the race
was actually started. Then, he said, the
studio could bring an injunction against
the speedway, just as he pulled up to the
starting line. The studio agreed and plans
were made. Wally made a few secret ar-
rangements of his own with Fred Deusen-
berg whose car he was to drive. The
injunction, they planned, would be
ignored, or delayed so that Wally could
get away with the starting gun. How
the studio found him out, we never knew,
but I never saw Wally so angry and so
hurt as the day the studio exposed his
plot."

Sam Wood directed Wallace Reid in
several pictures, and remembers him as
a man's man, a good drinking partner, a
good sports champion.

"But more than that," he says, "he was
a fine actor. I remember one particular
scene he played in Griffith's Birth of a
Nation, in which he threw the negroes
out of the door. It was one of the finest
pieces of acting I have ever seen. I saw
the picture recently — and what I say still
goes."

"One of the most impressive incidents
of my life in Hollywood was the day of
Wally's funeral," Helen Ferguson, former
actress and now one of Hollywood's
busiest publicists, told me. "I was work-
ing at Universal then. Just as a take was
completed, an assistant director an-
nounced, 'Wally's funeral starts in a few
moments.' Without anything further
being said, the electricians turned off the
lights and we all sat down quietly and
bowed our heads."

These are only a few of the many people
who remember Wally Reid as one of the
greatest of screen heroes — who delight in
his son's success.

■ "Of course, I don't remember much
about my father," says Bill. "He died
when I was five years old. But I knew
he was a great fellow. One of my few
memories concerning him is the time he
took me over the old Ascot speedway at
105 miles an hour. I was only four then."

Tall, blond and handsome, Bill re-
sembles his father to a great extent. His
eyes have the same expression and his
features have the same clear cut quality.

His mother, Dorothy Davenport Reid,
who, at the time of her marriage, was a
star of many Universal pictures, sees
more than a superficial resemblance. "He
has the same restlessness, vigor and fire,"
she says, "and many of his mannerisms
are the same. Even his feet are shaped
like his father's!"

An enigmatic smile brushed her lips as
she spoke. We remembered years ago
when Bill was the tender age of eleven,
she had said she didn't want him to follow
in her husband's footsteps. But now that
Bill is a confident young man of twenty-
two with an important picture assign-
ment, does she hope the shoe will fit?

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Lillian Russell

[Continued from page 25]

plays the part of Miss Russell's father,
Charles K. Leonard, who was a news-
paperman in the small town of Clinton,
Iowa. He is another beneficiary of Miss
Russell's friendly and unselfish interest in
young players. She gave Ernest a big boost
up the ladder in his early days, after he
had made his start in the world very much
after the manner of her real-life father,
as a reporter on a midland paper.

Weber and Fields, who do their famous
specialty in our film of Lillian Russell's
life, were contemporaries of hers at Tony
Pastor's Theatre and afterwards co-stars
at the Weber & Fields Music Hall. Edward
Arnold, who is having his second go at
the immensely fitting role of Diamond Jim
Brady, was acquainted with the great
Lillian during the Actors' Equity strike
of 1919, when he served on a committee
with her and witnessed her unsparing
efforts in behalf of the embattled actors.

As a little tad, Ed Arnold used to sneak
into Pastor's variety house and watch the
show as the guest of his uncle, who was
the bull fiddler in the pit orchestra.

To those of us who remember Lillian
Russell so vividly it is difficult to realize
that her life started in the same year as
the Civil War, 1861. As long as I knew her
she was literally ageless, and it is this
spirit of immutable vitality that I attempt
to stress in shaping Miss Faye's charac-
terization.

We endeavor to show the reciprocal
affection that endured between Lillian
Russell and Alexander Moore. Moore, a
young Pittsburgh reporter, was her great-
est admirer in youth and her staunchest
friend in her frequently stormy middle
years.

Rising through the ranks by sheer talent,
Alex became the publisher of the Pitts-
burgh Leader. Handsome, animated, a
beau-cavalier of the press, he was almost
as notable in his profession as Lillian in
hers. But he never lost the simplicity and
directness he was born with. Whenever
I played Pittsburgh, Alex made it a point
to meet me at a favorite rendezvous of
ours, a snack stand in the Pittsburgh
public market that served the most won-
derful baked beans west of Boston. We
often dallied there until three in the morn-
ing discussing politics, the arts, beans, and
Lillian Russell.

When, after long years of tried friend-
ship, Lillian became Alexander Moore's
wife at the age of fifty-one, the wedding
was held at the Schenley Hotel in Pitts-
burgh. Later Alex became the American
Ambassador to Spain. More than anyone
else, I think, he deserved the title "the
Richard Harding Davis of the Diplomatic
Corps."

| Clear and complete as our remem-
brance of Lillian Russell is, those of us
in the present company could never have
evolved a disciplined film story that would
portray her adequately. For this it was
necessary to have the impersonal touch of
someone who did not know her as well

Our scenarist, William Anthony Mc-
Guire, author of a dozen famous Broad-
way stage successes, brought to his task
the necessary technical knowledge of the
era and a very real appreciation of
Lillian's greatness. But still he was not
subject, as the others of . us were, to a
tendency to idolize the lady.

Sometimes I have trembled to think of
the temerity I displayed in accepting the
directing assignment. Sometimes the nec-
essary omissions and telescoping of pivotal
incidents in Lillian's life seemed to me
almost brutal.

But there are compensations. Mr. Mc-
Guire's visual imagery is uniformly sym-
pathetic and pictorial. His scene of a
political riot in Union Square, New York,
is stirring and quaint, when it is consid-
ered that the agitators were not of the kind
we know today but women striving for
equal rights who were known in that era
as Suffragettes.

Miss Russell's mayriage with Fred Solo-
mon, played by Don Ameche, is a warm-
hearted interlude that is especially tragic
as it runs contemporaneously with her dis-
pute with Gilbert and Sullivan over her
contracted appearance at the Savoy Thea-
tre in London.

My favorite scene thus far in the pro-
duction is the one in which Miss Faye, ap-
pearing in a simulation of the areaway of
the old Casino Theatre on Broadway, sings
After the Ball over the telephone to Presi-
dent Cleveland in Washington. This must
have been one of the telephone company's
earliest publicity stunts.

A string orchestra, playing outdoors by
candlelight, accompanies Miss Faye and
a chorus of sprightly ensemble ladies,
coiffed and corseted in the style of the
day, is grouped picturesquely behind her
on the dressing-room stairs.

I have no hesitancy in predicting that
Miss Faye's melting loveliness in this
number, her bravely beautiful voice and
the nostalgic tug of the background will
hastily restore After' the Ball to the high
place in popular esteem that it enjoyed on
its first publication.

That thoroughbred Latin, Leo Carrillo,
plays Tony Pastor, the showman, in our
picture. From the outset of our produc-
tion, he has spent his leisure time specu-
lating what the original Tony Pastor would
have done with the cast, the budget and
the technical equipment we have at our
command in the making of Lillian Russell.

Four thousand extra players, hundreds
of singers, hundreds of musicians, hun-
dreds of technicians and hundreds upon
hundreds of thousands of dollars have
been contributed to the creation of our
film. A dozen of our players have been
enshrined as stars of the first magnitude in
this decade or another. A year was spent
in the preparation of the script. New York
was combed for source material of the
Lillian Russell era, rightly so named.

I speak for the Lillian Russell company
when I say that there is none among us
who is not proud and thrilled to offer our
small tribute to her evergreen memory.

i ran « twiivffl aa

■

p5^

■

ACROSS

1. Hero of a Disney cartoon.

10. Helen in The Invisible Man Returns.

11. Nate in Cranny Get Your Gun.

13. A star of Adventure in Diamonds.

15. Feminine lead in Parole Fixer.

16. Grapes Wrath.

18. Whose role is that opposite Sonja in Every-
thing Happens at Night ?

19. Durante's schnozzle.

20. Coat of Felix the Cat.

21. Hour to Live.

22. They Shall Musie.

23. Flora in The Shop Around the Corner.

24. Dorothy Tree's initials.

25. On Borrowed .

26. All Have Secrets.

27. Place for animals in circus films

28. Reward for Asta.

29. Tom McDonald in Calling Philo Vance.

31. Part of a movie camera.

32. Miss Hudson's initials.

33. Whose role is that of Bessie in The Light
that Failed?

34. What Nelson Fddy did in Balalaika.

35. Musical selection by Chico and Harpo.

36. Bobs Watson wears this headgear.

37. Kay Kyser directs one.

3S. Fritz in Swiss Family Robinson.

39. Ken Maynard's initials.

40. The girl in Law of the Pampas.

41. Whose role is that of Al in Cafe Hostess?

42. Descriptive of a one reel subject.

44. His last name is Roach.

45. Mrs. Tyrone Power.

9.
12.
13.
14.
IS.
17.
19.
20.
22.
23.
25.
26.
27.

28.

30.

31.
32.
34.
35.
37.
38.
40.
41.
43.
44.

DOWN

(pl.).

Jamaica —

"Cap" Huff in Northwest Passage.

Joe and Ethel Turp Call the President.

This comedian wears a straw hat.

Dr. Loren in Green Hell.

Maureen O'Hara's birthplace (abbr.).

For Love Money.

A star of His Girl Friday.

That's Right Wrong.

Pat O'Brien's partner in Slightly Honorable.
Joan Bennett has blue ones (sing.).

Remember Billie ?

Joan Crawford's ex -husband (poss.).

In Only.

Flight to .

School.

Three

Astaire-Powell dance steps.

Chinese actress.

What fans do when stars make a personal
appearance.

Charles Butterworth was born in South ,

Indiana.

His first name is Ted and he appears in

Westerns.

Artie Shaw's bride.

of the Sea (sing.).

■ Fe Marshal.

Daisy, of Blondie films, is one.

Money to .

Murphy in His Girl Friday.
Stephen Foster in Swanee Rh'cr.
What Laurel is to Hardy (Slang.).
Hardie Albright's initials.
• Married His Wife.

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Edison

[Continued from page 23]

Ford and to this careful preparation, the
studio replica of the laboratory was so
exact that Edison would have found the
right things in their familiar spots, pre-
cisely as he left them when he closed the
place in 1887.

He would immediately have recognized
the tiny light bulbs which glass-blower
Max Goeppinger made on the set. Tracy
wanted to try his hand at it, so Max gave
him the tube and told him to blow. A
splendid bubble formed. It grew larger,
larger. . . .

Flash, cr-rack. Tracy clamped shut his
eyes and dodged. But a cautious look
showed the bubble intact. A photographer
had merely taken a flashlight.

K What fascinated Tracy even more than
glass-blowing were the studio's repro-
ductions of half a dozen Edison invention
models. "They go, too!" he said.

These included a voting machine per-
fected by the Wizard at the age of twenty-
one; the stock ticker, selling for $40,000
when he expected $2,000, enabled him to
marry and build the first private labora-
tory in the country; the carbon telephone
transmitter in use today, forerunner of the
radio mike; the automatic telegraph re-
peater; the talking machine which turned
out to be the granddaddy of the talking
picture.

There's a scene where the automatic
telegraph repeater raced too fast and its
gabble of Morse code gave Edison the idea
for this talking machine. On the copy of
the inventor's model, Tracy learned how
to fit tinfoil to a cylinder, adjust a needle,
recite "Mary's Lamb" into a cardboard
horn, and get a nice record. A difficult
sequence, but fun.

George Meader also made a record but
he hated to listen to the result; said his
jaws still ached. Meader played the clergy-
man who in real life, suspected a trick,
and asked to be allowed to speak into the
cardboard horn eight Biblical names which
no ventriloquist could echo without prac-
tice. Here's what he rattled off: "Methuse-
lah, Mahalaleel, Arphaxed, Hazarmaveth,
Chedorlaomer, Zephaniah,Obadiah, Nebu-
chadnezzar." Right back at him the ma-
chine tossed them.

Iff: It is a curious coincidence, by the way,
that Tracy's face matches the invent-
or's to a fraction of an inch in length and
width. The nose, mouth and cleft chin are
identical. In early scenes Tracy used no
make-up. He had to use some in those
where he portrayed a man of eighty-two.
When Edison's daughter, Mrs. Madeleine
Edison Sloane, saw Tracy ready for this
sequence, with thin white hair and that
Edison smile of shy benevolence, he looked
so like her father that she cried.

The resemblance pleases Tracy. Among
his major heroes is the man whose dis-
coveries are said to provide, directly or
indirectly, a livelihood for one wage
earner out of nine in industries over the
world. "Yet he was so unpretentious,"
Tracy commented, "didn't care about

money or clothes. Why, a certain tailor
made his suits for 20 years with an old
suit for a pattern, without ever seeing him.
His weight," said Tracy, whose wife
watches his, "didn't vary more than an
ounce or two all that time."

I knew such things as that Edison never
entered a saloon or smoked a cigarette (he
smoked cigars) , but I hadn't heard about
the water in the light bulb.

"Common sense!" Tracy's voice warmed
with admiration. "He couldn't do calcu-
lus, but when a mathematician on his
staff used up two pencils trying to figure
the cubic contents of an electric light bulb,
Edison broke the end off the bulb, filled
it with water, measured the water, and
had the answer."

From West Orange, N. J., Mrs. Edison
Hughes, the widow of Thomas Edison, sent
Tracy one of the inventor's gray, card-
board covered notebooks filled with neat,
diminutive handwriting — a valuable gift.
"The man had a fine poetic side," Tracy
pointed out, "in the middle of data on car-
bon and platinum and volts you come
across a line about a bird that sang in a
tree at sunrise, or a sky so blue it would
be a lovely day for a picnic."

5 How Edison ever found leisure for a
picnic nobody can figure, because at
twenty he began to allow himself only four
hours' sleep, saying that he lived twice as
long as other men because he slept half
as much. Time he considered the impor-
tant thing; "You can't buy it," he told his
friends. He had so many things to do, so
little time for them.

"Still, with all those inventions on his
mind," Tracy chuckled, "I don't wonder
he couldn't get to sleep. Yes, sir, he cheated
himself on rest, he ate at irregular hours,
usually apple pie — " the stellar counte-
nance contracted slightly, for during pro-
duction Spencer ate 23 apple pies — "he dis-
regarded nearly every law of health . . .
and lived to be eighty-four."

A long breath. "On top of all this, he
played the pipe organ and sang 'Sweet
Genevieve.' "

K In the laboratory set stood a replica
of the pipe organ given to Edison by
Hilbourne Roosevelt, President Theodore
Roosevelt's uncle, who thought the tones
might penetrate the permanent deafness
suffered by Edison since he was a boy and
his ears were boxed by a railroad con-
ductor. Like Edison, Tracy learned to sing
"Sweet Genevieve" and to pick out the
tune with a finger. The pipe organ and a
clock are laboratory furnishings no longer
in existence. Moved to Edison's home, they
were burned. Ironically enough, the house
of the master of electricity was struck by
lightning.

Incidentally, while Young Tom Edison
also took an interest in electricity, Edison,
The Man is not a sequel to the Mickey
Rooney film. Each is a separate and dis-
tinct picture, dealing almost with sepa-
rate and distinct personalities. Edison ap-
pears to have led two lives: that of the

nonconformist boy who hadn't found his
place in the world, and that of the young
man who knew what he wanted no matter
how hard he had to struggle to get it.

B The story of Edison, The Man begins
with the 82-year-old genius talking to
reporters for a high school paper while
world-famous men wait to honor him at
the Golden Jubilee of Light in 1929. After-
ward, at the banquet, his thoughts wander
through the vital years, 1869 to 1879. . . .
Penniless, an unknown telegrapher, he
arrives in New York with a single ambi-
tion: to invent an electric light. He wins
the attention of influential men by repair-
ing a "gold indicator," precursor of the
stock ticker, and by the invention of a
modern ticker which he sells to the West-
ern Union. At the company's shops in
Newark, he meets Mary Stillwell (Rita
Johnson) , employed in the office of a tele-
graph key company above the workshop.
They marry, he builds his own laboratory,
a daughter and son are born, and for a
whole decade the Edisons battle against
poverty.

fi At the end of his rope, the electric light
still a dream, he invents the talking
machine in time to hold off the sheriff. He's
a celebrity now, but Bunt Cavatt (Lynne
Overman) , an irresponsible friend, prema-
turely announces that Edison has invented
the electric light, and, since Edison cannot
produce proof, he's branded a faker. Mr.
Taggart (Gene Lockhart), manager of the
Gold Indicator Co., is his special enemy.

Encouraged, however, by the steadfast
faith of his wife, Edison completes his
invention at last, and three years later
applies for a franchise to light a section of
New York City. He gets it, but with the
understanding that the preliminary labor,
wiring, and so on must be installed at his
own expense! And he is granted only six
months to finish the job!

Near the deadline, he's forced to design
and build a larger dynamo than any ever
built before. On the final day, September
4, 1882, the new dynamo breaks down. Led
by Edison, the men toil like maniacs to
revamp it. And while Taggart celebrates
Edison's failure, the lights come on.

| The dynamo breakdown sequence had
more breakdown than they planned.
Decked out for a forthcoming reception
in the Prince Albert that Edison hated
and that Tracy hated, too, the star was
busy with "repairs" when something really
went haywire. Steel pistons crashed,
flailed the air; actors sprang right and left;
and the cameras nabbed some unexpected
shots.

"Now I know how Edison felt," Tracy
said.

But, the dynamo again in order, he
smiled toward the door where stood Rita
Johnson, as Mrs. Edison, in a pale blue
satin gown with a bustle, her dark curls
dressed a la 1882. As she entered, the
inventor stepped over to a metal handle,
made one motion . . . and walked with her
to the window. Out there, New York at
his touch had leaped into radiance against
the dark sky. Electricity, and Edison, had
come into their own.

Si Much earlier, there'd been a pretty
sequence when Edison and his wife,
then Mary Stillwell, first met. It was rain-
ing. Her umbrella turned inside out, he
went to the rescue. But before they met in
the rain or anywhere, the celluloid Edi-
sons (with the stern disregard a shooting
schedule has for the true order of events)
were already the parents of Eve Kendall,
aged three years, and "son" Diana Davies,
aged eight months. A father himself, this is
the first time Tracy has played a father
on the screen.

Eve and Diana, new to the camera and
leery of onlookers, had a protective fence
of cloth round their "Menlo Park nursery."
To put Eve further at ease, Director Brown
gave her what he called "a nice, 'wed'
pencil."

"Red," she replied, " 'wed' 's baby talk."

Eve, he decided, was at ease and no
fooling.

Not so baby Diana, who took a fussy
spell. At last, by breathless effort, every
body going around tippytoe, they got her
to sleep.

Brown relaxed, teetered across to his
chair, nodded to the cameraman.
"QUIET!!" yelled an assistant. Diana cer-
tainly woke up.

Mikey Simms, less than three years old,
was cast for his first screen part. But
Mikey wouldn't play until, from the
Columbia lot, they rushed his brother
Larry, aged four, who as Baby Dumpling
in the Blondie series is a veteran artist.
Tiny Larry told tinier Mikey how to do it
and Mikey cheerily obeyed. Quite seri-
ously Larry refused Brown's offer of a
director's job. Said he would rather act
than direct.

S Meanwhile, Tracy in preparation for
another scene was being coached in
telegraphy by expert McLaren Fox who
said he simply couldn't explain the star's
quick grasp of Morse code. Tracy winked.
He'd been studying the code at home with
his young son, John. "You see," Tracy
remarked, "there's an explanation for
almost any phenomenon. Except, pos-
sibly, one like Edison."

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It takes a whole especially built trailer
to carry Guy Kibbee's "picnic" out to the
wilds for a camping trip before he be-
comes the lovable character of Scattergood
Baines for RKO

Picnic De Luxe

No sand in the beans, no ants in the
salad when movie stars go picnicking

By BETTY CROCKER

H Probably there has
never been a picnic since
the days of the cave dwel-
lers that someone didn't say,
"What's a picnic without
ants?" or "Oh, well, you
have to eat at least a peck
of dirt before you die, any-
way— so here goes!"

Never, that is, until Guy
Kibbee decided that the old
system was all wrong and
started in to do something about it. So
nowadays, if Kibbee ever asks you to a
meal out-of-doors, which will probably
be in the deep woods beside a stream well
stocked with trout, you'll learn just how
de luxe a picnic really can be! True, you
will be allowed to wear your oldest clothes,
which may even be dirty and wet if you've
been hunting. But there will be no ants.
There will be no beans out of a can. And,
most unusual of all, because Kibbee is
really a very fine fisherman, there will be
no trout.

It is a question that the actor might not
be able to settle himself: which is his
favorite sport — hunting and fishing, or
eating. Hunting, certainly, is one of his
earliest loves, because he was barely ten
years old when he used to spend all of

his recreational hours hunt-
ing antelope, with the aid
of greyhounds, near Ros-
well, New Mexico. The love
of good food came later,
perhaps because during sev-
eral long stretches of his
career before he became a
success he had so very little
of it. Guy is a gourmet and
he doesn't care who knows
it. He can afford it, his
screen career won't suffer if he gains an
extra pound, his conscience is clear, his
digestion good, and he has done his share
of starving. So — why not?

Therefore, for ten days before Kibbee
starts on a long hunting or fishing trip,
his pal Joe Bernard rattles skillets and
juggles pans, preparing special sauces to
be consumed in the wilderness, while
Kibbee worries. Worries for fear his cur-
rent picture won't finish in time, worries
for fear his next one might start too soon,
worries for fear they aren't biting well
this year, or that somebody already has
caught the biggest ones. Meantime, he
somehow gets through the days by pack-
ing and unpacking the car and trailer. Guy
can never laugh at Mrs. Kibbee or at any
ether woman, for taking along a lot of

baggage for a week-end trip, because the
amount of stuff he has to stow away for
even an overnight fishing jaunt is really
somepn'. Clothes are the smallest part
of it. Some old pants, a disreputable
wind-breaker, a battered hat circled with
fish-hooks, a couple of shirts, hip-boots
and sneakers are enough. There will be
one of the fanciest carved leather fish-
pole-bags in captivity, a few assorted guns,
reels, boxes of cartridges and trays of flies.
But mainly, the bulk of Guy Kibbee's
camping equipment is food. For good food,
after a hard day's fishing, is the fondest
thing Guy Kibbee is of!

So, when Guy and Joe roll out of the
driveway along about dawn of a summer's
morning, rolling right behind them is a
specially constructed trailer-kitchen on
wheels, featuring a 175-pound-ice-box in
which will be found at least one turkey, a
few home grown pheasants, perhaps a
terrapin from Georgia, a few Michigan
frog-legs, Gloucester lobsters, Portland
crawfish and a Missouri ham. Of course,
there will be the proper sauce for each,
and such necessary adjuncts to cooking
as flour, butter, milk, eggs, fruit, onions,
coffee, sugar, salt, pepper and a few of
the rarer seasonings for good measure.
Then, when mealtime comes around, Guy
and Joe will sit down in regal style (if you
overlook the overalls and fish scales) on
an air-cooled pneumatic mattress, to con-
sume a banquet properly served on a table
under an awning. And woe to any ant
that dares to come around looking for a

hand-out! As to the fish and game bagged
that day — it will be carefully put away
on ice to be cooked at home or given away
to his friends. Only once, when a hitch-
hiker to whom the pair had given a lift
showed his gratitude by sneaking off with
the vittles did Guy find himself actually
dependent on his own rod and reel for
sustenance. He did all right, with moun-
tain trout for breakfast and baked bass for
dinner — but Guy would have liked ter-
rapin a la Maryland, better.

Although Guy Kibbee's tastes admit-
tedly run to fancy dishes, he is fond of
many simple things when they are well
done, and has several recipes of his own
for such old favorites as macaroni and
cheese, scrapple, and stuffed peppers that
are easy to prepare. Unless you have de
luxe camping equipment and a good stove,
you won't want to try these away from
your own kitchen — but if you follow Guy's
recipes to the letter, you'll find they're
delicious to prepare in advance for a meal
in the open.

MACARONI AND CHEESE

% pound macaroni (Broken in 1%
pieces)

3 qt. boiling salted water

1 cup milk

2 bouillon cubes
Vz tsp. salt

Dash of cayenne pepper
1 tbsp. flour

4 tbs. butter

inch

FREE
Plans for 12 Picnics!

Now that the good old summertime is
here — we all are picnic-minded. Betty
Crocker's Menus for Memorable Picnics
give new ideas for camp-fire suppers,
hamper picnics, roadside lunches and all
kinds of out-of-door meals. Just fill out
the coupon and these menus and recipes
will be sent to you without charge.

Betty Crocker,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway,
New York City.

Please send me Menus for Memorable
Picnics.

Name

Street

City

State

1 cup grated strong or aged yellow Amer-
ican cheese (or Parmesan cheese)

Cook macaroni until tender (about 15
minutes) in boiling salted water. Drain.
Heat milk, and dissolve bouillon cubes in
it. Add salt and pepper. Place half the
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and sprinkle with half the cheese. Add the

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remaining macaroni, and pour the hot
milk over it. Add the remaining butter and
cheese. Bake twenty minutes in a 350° F.,
moderate oven.

STUFFED CHILI PEPPERS

1 dozen green Anaheim peppers

J/2 pound sharp cheese

Batter

Parboil peppers very slightly. Drain

and remove tough outer skin. Split open

and remove seeds and fill with chopped

cheese. Dip in batter and fry in deep fat.

PHILADELPHIA SCRAPPLE

2 pounds lean boneless pork

3 qt. water
2V2 tsp. salt

1% cup corn meal (white or yellow)

% tsp. pepper

% tsp. savory and sage mixed

Cook pork in water with salt until very
tender (about 2 hours) . Shred the pork
in small pieces and add enough more
liquid to make 1% qt. meat stock. Re-
turn pork to stock and bring slowly to a
boil. Add the corn meal very slowly (to
prevent lumping) to the boiling liquid
and cook 20 minutes, stirring constantly,
until it is a stiff mush. Add the pepper and
savory mixture, and more salt if desired.
Pour into two buttered bread loaf pans
or one large loaf pan, and chill. Cut in
slices % inch thick, roll in corn meal, and
fry in butter or bacon drippings until
golden brown. Serve hot with butter.

Hollywood already is buying summer
wardrobes of bathing suits. Kay Stewart's
favorite is a checked flannel from BVD
with a small gracefully flared skirt

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— Fawcett Photo by Charles llhodes
Bette Davis took an old friend from Boston, Arthur Farnsworth, to the Screen Actors'
Ball. Notice her hair-do, rolled back like a school-child's from a center part

Important Pictures

[Continued from page 17]

sent for them. There was a mysterious pit
in a padlocked pen. An unearthly green
light danced and flickered from his labora-
tory at night. And then there were the
bones . . . the unbelievably tiny bones of
a little horse on the scrap heap.

Technicolor adds greatly to the effec-
tiveness of this thriller which also employs
trick photography for stunning effects.
When his newly arrived assistants dis-
cover part of Dr. Cyclops' secret, there
is only one thing a mad scientist can do
. . . pop them into his radium cell, and
reduce them in size so that they no longer
can menace his plans.

When the experiment is complete, the
horrified victims find themselves only
fourteen inches high. What happens when
they arm themselves with needles, scis-
sors and matches, and try to escape the
enraged madman is a fantastic adventure.
See it if you like tales about invisible
men, death rays and eerie improbabilities.

MY LITTLE CHICKADEE — Universal

H He was a traveling salesman with a
satchel full of phony money. She
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THE BISCUIT EATER— Paramount

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Particularly interesting are the shots of
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They had timed the climax of their story
to fit into one of the big Eastern races,
which to them was only a catchword. So
they went to the library to get some facts
and local color.

In the reading room they wrote out a
requisition slip for a back copy of The New
York Times of a certain date. In the space
on the slip saying, "Purpose for which
you desire this newspaper," one of the au-
thors wrote, "Research."

The library lady was not satisfied with
this curt description.

"What kind of research?" she asked,
thereby protecting the interests of the tax-
payers of Los Angeles.

"Horse-race research," replied the boy
researchers.

"H-m-m — ," said the library lady, tap-
ping her pencil on the desk with nicely
restrained indignation. "You mean past-
performance research. You race track
gamblers and touts come in her and cut
and mutilate our papers 'til our files look
like confetti. We won't stand for any more
of it."

So the boy authors meekly went home
and finished their race track story by ear.
And sold it to 20 Century-Fox under the
title of Owners Up.

In their script the name of the horse that
quits in the homestretch is Public Library.

NEXT MONTH
A Day With Deanna Durbin is a colorful account of the many and varied demands made
upon the young singing star's time. But she has time left over for all those exciting things
a seventeen-year-old likes to do. Look for the stunning portrait of Deanna on the cover.

.Jeaiiette?s Bright Ideas

[Continued from page 19]

pointed one finger at it, and another at a
rather indefinitely wrapped scarf that
covered all but the very front of her red
hair. The scarf was a somewhat foreign
note in the striking ensemble ... a bright
blue and green silk bandanna more ap-
propriate to motoring along California's
beaches than to the smart avenues of New
York or the crack flyer to Philadelphia.

"I'll never make him change his mind!"
She shook with laughter, drew a deep
breath, and turned sparkling eyes at the
flat Jersey marshes that were whipping
past the windows.

"It's all because everyone has been so
wonderful on this tour," she explained.
"Somebody is always doing something
wonderful, or saying something nice, and
I'm so used to saying 'Thank you' that a
minute ago . . ." She collapsed into
laughter again.

We were drawing into Elizabeth, New
Jersey, before the whole story came out.
On the same train was the whole Phila-
delphia Symphony Orchestra, returning
from New York, and, as she made her
way through the car, she stopped to greet
one of the distinguished musicians.

"Ah," he said. "How are you?"

"And I said 'Thank you SO much!' No
wonder he looked confused! Especially
when he saw this." She pointed to the
jaunty bandanna. "That's the result of one
of my bright ideas."

Traveling with Miss MacDonald are
her manager, the distinguished impre-
sario, Charles Wagner; one of his associ-
ates, Edward Snowdon; her brilliant
accompanist, Guiseppe Bamboschek; her
own confidential secretary, Miss Sylvia
Grogg, and her maid, but all of them com-
bined have not been able to protect the
star from some of her own bright ideas.

The bright idea that almost made her

miss the train, turned a cab driver into a
one-man streak of lightning, disrupted
New York traffic, and surprised the Penn-
sylvania Station with her appearance in
the gaudy bandanna was her latest. And
it all came about because she had the
bright idea of asking the editor of this
magazine to ride down to Philadelphia
with her to hear her concert in her own
home town.

"We'll take an early train from Al-
bany," she informed her company. "Then
I'll have time to have my hair done in
New York in peace and quiet with plenty
of time to meet Llewellyn and catch the
three o'clock train for Philadelphia."

There seemed to be nothing wrong with
that plan. And that should have warned
her traveling companions. There never
is anything wrong with her bright ideas
... at first. So, early in the morning, they
arrived at the Albany depot to catch the
train. But the train was late. Miss Mac-
Donald had another bright idea. "We'll
have breakfast while we're waiting," she
suggested. That sounded all right, too. but
they had not counted on the autograph
hunters. A crowd gathered, and, while
the coffee grew cold and the toast grew
limp, Jeanette signed books and envelopes
and menus with such charity that they
almost missed the train when it finally
did pull in.

"Oh, well, we'll have breakfast on the
train," she comforted her hungry tribe as
they walked away from the untouched
food. But that was another bright idea
that somehow didn't work. There was no
dining car on that particular train! Late,
very late, the star arrived at her favorite
New York hairdresser's, and with a sigh
of relief relaxed in the quiet little cubicle.
It was warm under the drier, and the rush-

ing air had a soothing sound. The coffee
had been hot and good. The shampoo had
been fast and the curls had gone up per-
fectly. She closed her eyes, began to think
happily of her concert in the famous old
Academy of Music in Philadelphia where
she had gone so many times when she was
a little girl to hear the glamorous stars of
the concert stage.

When she opened her eyes it was to
give one shocked look at her watch, and
start reaching for her possessions. There
was no time to take out the pins. There
was no time for the comb. There wasn't
even time enough to catch the train, ac-
cording to all usual standards of time and
space.

Out of the beauty shop ran the distin-
guished star of screen and stage, winding
the startling bandanna around her head.
Up to the corner she hurried. Into a cab
she popped.

"Pennsylvania Station," she said to the
driver. "Do you think you can catch the
three o'clock train?"

"Can't say," said the driver with that
cool imperviousness to all human hopes
and fears and aspirations except their own
for which New York cabbies are justly
noted.

"Double fare if you can!"

Something about her voice made him
turn around for a good look. "Ain't you
that movie star?" he asked. "Well, sure!
Let's get going."

Without more ado, he swung into the

middle of traffic, though the lights were
against him.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!" shrilled the traffic
officer indignantly.

The cabbie slowed only slightly as he
swung around on two wheels, gesturing
back at Miss MacDonald with a wildly
waving thumb. "Look who I got! It's
Jeanette!" he roared. "She's gotta make a
train! How about it?"

"For Jeanette, sure!" roared back the
gallant officer. "Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!" And
he wheeled around, his white gloves ges-
turing back traffic in all directions, while
her cab leaped across the intersection.

She closed her eyes. If there was going
to be an accident, she didn't want to see
it coming. She hoped that they would
break the news gently to Gene. She hoped
that her injuries would not be so severe
that they could not move her to California.
She hoped . . .

"Here you are!" cried the cabbie trium-
phantly. "All the time in the world to
spare. You got three more minutes."

"For the widows and orphans' fund,"
she called back over her shoulder as she
ran away from her change. "And thank
you!"

"Wow! Thank you, Jeanette," he roared.
"Come back soon!"

"So here I am," she finished. "And it
was a bright idea, going down together,
wasn't it? It's working out beautifully.
Sometimes they do . . . though the one
before the last was pretty bad . . ."

H The bright idea before the last oc-
curred to Miss MacDonald after she
had spent a month on trains and in hotels.
Under any circumstances, she has the
greatest difficulty in getting enough sleep.
The slightest noise keeps her awake. The
most insignificant of sounds rouses her.
In Hollywood, her habit is to snatch
fifteen-minute naps all through the day in
her studio dressing room whenever she is
not needed on the set. But that plan is not
very practical when on tour, and, by the
time she reached the middle of her tour,
she was desperately in need of several
nights of sound, undisturbed slumber.

"I have a bright idea!" she announced.
"Why don't we find out if there isn't a
country club where we can stay instead
of a hotel? Let's ask the manager."

The local concert manager was the soul
of sympathy. There wasn't any country
club open, but he thought he had the an-
swer. A friend of his had a country place.
Of course, it was closed for the winter,
but it would be a simple matter to open
it up. In fact, it was half opened already,
in preparation for the spring. It was a lit-
tle late to have dinner served there, but
the house staff could be sent right out,
beds would be ready, and certainly the
place would be quiet . . . the nearest
neighbor was three miles away.

It sounded like paradise to the star.
After all, she had been traveling for five
weeks, and, while the huge audiences that
had turned out for her concerts were stim-
ulating, the strain of performances and of

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broken sleep in hotels was beginning to
tell.

Leaving the men of her company look-
ing rather envious, she set off gaily with
Miss Grogg and her maid for the peace
and quiet of the country.

"This was really a bright idea!" she said
happily when they stepped into a charm-
ing living room after an hour's drive. A
bright fire was crackling on the hearth,
but otherwise the deep silence of the coun-
try was broken only by the cook's apology
over dinner. There just had not been time,
but she did hope that Miss MacDonald had
found a nice place to dine on the way out.

The first blow came when they discov-
ered that the nearest restaurant was forty-
five minutes away. The second blow was
the restaurant itself, which turned out to
be one of the noisiest road houses in the
whole South. The third blow came after
the servants had departed for the night,
and Miss MacDonald lay down gratefully
in the peace and quiet of her country
bedroom.

"Glug!" said the radiator. "Glug. Crack,
glug. Crack-glug-crack-glug-glug-glug-
crack-crack." The uproar grew in volume,
building from wheezy gasps to the rous-
ing complaint of a Model T Ford protest-
ing at a hill, while three completely wide-
awake young women ran around all over
the house, turning off radiators like mad.
They turned off everything they could
find, but still the uproar went on.

Then they got the fourth blow. The tele-
phone was not connected, and the near-

est neighbor was three miles away in some
unknown direction!

The fifth blow came when, hours later,
they pulled up in front of the hotel, only
to discover that it was also housing a con-
vention ... a convention that was hav-
ing a lovely time, and gave every sign
of continuing its celebration all night . . .
a convention that promptly voted Miss
MacDonald its favorite star, and honored
her with a serenade!

It was a beautiful compliment, but not
what might be considered restful. At that,
Miss MacDonald added ruefully, it was
quieter than the country.

Of such things is the painful side of
traveling for a movie star who likes her
sleep. On the brighter side of the picture
are the enormous audiences that have
packed concert halls all the way across
the country, the enthusiastic response to
her favorite song, "Let Me Always Sing,"
which Gene Raymond wrote, the plans for
her appearance in grand opera which are
beginning to take shape in the minds of
more than one person who has heard her
sing in concert. Studio duties demand a
goodly portion of her time, but under any
circumstances, she will repeat her concert
tour next year. "I really think it's a bright
idea, don't you?" she asked.

Her whole company jumped at the
words, then they relaxed. After all, some
of her bright ideas do work out, and
there could be no doubt that a repeat tour
was an idea that could not be anything but
a shining success.

"It's lovely work, if you can get it," says George Elliot, prop man on The
Ghost Breakers, in which Paulette Goddard and Bob Hope play leading roles. His
job is to close the door in a slow, frightening way as Paulette leaves the room

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THIS YEAR'S MOST
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THE MORTAL
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The whole country will be
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MAGAZINE

IOC AT ALL NEWSSTANDS

The Man Who "No's"
Everyone

[Continued from page 30]

an easy job to be a doorman at a ttudio.
Every day, for instance, between the
hours of nine and ten in the morning, six-
teen hundred employees file through the
swinging gate at his right. His eagle eye,
quick as a camera, has photographed and
memorized each face, and now must
check to make sure that no stranger
slips through the line. Employees, as
you know, come and go. The faces
keep on changing. Each week, each
day, .some new writer, director or actor
comes west under contract. What's even
more remarkable is the fact that Mac soon
adds the name to the face, and the low-
liest of script girls cannot help but feel
the thrill that comes with instant recog-
nition.

But even though the sixteen hundred
are accounted for and safely inside, there's
more to the job than that. In fact, Mac's
work for the day has just begun, for now
there comes the long parade of strangers.
They pour through the door in a steady
stream, making all sorts of requests.

"I have a story to sell."

"I'm a dancer. Any chance?"

"I've an appointment."

"I've no appointment."

■ Not only performers swarm to the
studio, begging admittance. There are
visiting congressmen and ministers, pro-
cess servers and salesmen, relatives and
ardent fans, bless 'em. Mac must take
care to make no mistake, for mistakes
have often been costly. He must know
by instinct the difference between a
millionaire rajah on his way to see Mr.
Cecil B. DeMille, and a Hindu extra on
the look-out for work.

The King of Siam has been a visitor at
Paramount. He happened to come alone.
Not long afterwards, another potentate
arrives with his retinue — but some keen
detective work soon proved him to be a
vaudevillian accompanied by his troupe.
There's just that little nervous manner —
that tremor in the voice — a hem and a
haw — that always gives the imposter
away.

All sorts of people knock at the golden
Cate — but not all are admitted. Some go
away, never to come back. They under-
stand that a big shop can't close down
while they're being shown around. They
understand that a small whisper on a
sound stage may spoil a whole scene.
They understand that if the rule is broken
for one — it should be broken for all. And
they go away like the good sports that
they are. But there are some folks who
won't take "No" for an answer.

B Mac, with a twinkle in his eye, re-
called the case of the little, shy old
fellow, soft-spoken and neat in appear-
ance. He said his name was John Smith
and Mac believed him. He said he wanted
to see Marlene Dietrich — and Mac could
understand that. But Marlene was not
on the lot that day — and he told Mr. Smith
as much. Mr. Smith thanked him and
went away.

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A few days later a stooped old man
wearing a snow-white beard came in on
a crutch to see Miss Dietrich. Somehow,
he reminded Mac of John Smith. Mac
sent him away. Not long afterwards, an
Englishman, natty, spry and mannerly,
called to see Marlene. Although he wore
a most impressive mustache, there was
something familiar in his manner. He
too, reminded Mac of John Smith. And it
was John Smith — all the time — each time
in a new disguise.

A crutch — a mustache — a beard or a
wig — Mac must see through them all, and
he must be prepared for all kinds of
shocks because people go to the most
fantastic extremes to get past him. One
poor little girl went so far as to take
poison in order to try and break her way
into pictures. Mac picked her up in his
arms — the ambulance clanged to the door
— and off she went to the hospital. She
very nearly died..

H "Folk'll do anything to get inside,"
said Mac. "I like the ones that tell
the truth. I do all I can for them. But
it's the phonies that get me. Only the
other day, a man asked to see Bing Crosby.
I told him Mr. Crosby was busy on the
set. He insisted he had to see him. He
declared he'd come all the way from Bing's
home town to deliver a most important
personal message. He wouldn't take "No"
for an answer, and finally threw open his
coat and showed me a deputy sheriff's
badge. I didn't know what to do — for a
minute. Then I asked him for his cre-
dentials. Well, he didn't have any. He
wasn't a sheriff at all. And when I re-
minded him of the penalty in force for
impersonating an officer, he was only too
ready to make a quick getaway.

"At a job like this, you meet all sorts
cf people. Last month a woman walked
into this reception room and asked to see
Claudette Colbert. She told me she had
come all the way from Australia. But
Miss Colbert was in the midst of a picture
and working day and night to finish it on
time to meet a release date. I tried to
explain that even a half hour of the star's
time — with sets and staff and actors kept
waiting — would cost the studio a sum in
four figures. The woman could not see
it that way. She insisted she'd visit with
Miss Colbert if it took her a week of Sun-
days to get in. Day after day, when the
studio opened, there she was, demanding
to get in. Finally she flew into a rage.

" 'I'll get into this studio,' she declared,
'if I have to fly over in a plane and jump
out in a parachute!'

"But up to date," added Mac with a
sly smile, "no unidentified parachute
jumper has been found on the lot!"

S "Movie-struck aspirants are not be-
yond offering bribes," confided Mac.
"They'll give anything — do anything — in
exchange for being allowed to get in to
see the casting director. A woman once
went as far as to offer to buy me a new
roadster if I would get her an appointment
with one of our top directors. I didn't
accept the car, of course, but let me tell
you, it's twice as hard to refuse a home-
made chocolate cake.

"People resort to all sorts of ruses to
try and get through the gate. Recently,
while Barbara Stanwyck was working on
the lot, a young woman walked carelessly
through the foyer and swung open the
low wooden gate. She wore a sports suit
and a casual manner. She was made up to
simulate Miss Stanwyck. Haircut, low
shoes — I will say she was a good imitation.

"Just a minute, Miss," I called out.
"What is it you want?"

No star would have expressed greater
disdain. But that in itself was a give-
away. Miss Stanwyck would have laughed.

"Don't you recognize Stanwyck when
you see her?" she demanded haughtily.
Little did she realize that at that particu-
lar moment the real Miss Stanwyck was
on location hundreds of miles away. There
was something else the little lady did not
know, and it was this: Miss Stanwyck
never used the foyer. She always drove
into the studio by way of the big motor
gate.

B "Once in a while," confessed Mac,
"I'm on the verge of being taken in.
Only yesterday, a young man stopped by.
He was well-dressed, good-looking and
didn't seem ill at ease or in a hurry. He
wanted me to send word to Don Ameche
that his brother was here. I was about
to relay the message when the young man
offered me his cigarette case. I noted that
the initials read S. R. So, if Mr. S. R.
happens to read this, he will understand
why he failed to make his way into the
studio.

"Then there's the old trick of carrying
a can of film under your arm, just as if
you were working on the lot. And there's
the stunt of engaging an employee in
animated conversation, and following him
into the studio. That was tried a couple
of times and fooled me. But I soon got
wise to it. For a time people got in by
presenting an old admission card. I
caught on to that one too, and the trick
no longer works. We date the cards now
and change the colors regularly. And
there's a strict rule around here — abso-
lutely no exceptions."

According to Mac, not even President
Roosevelt — with all due deference to his
office — could get in if by any fantastic
circumstance he should come unexpected-
ly. Too many actors in Hollywood could
make up to look enough like the president
to fool him momentarily, Mac explained.

If this rule of "positively no admittance
without a pass" seems harsh to you, just
remember that the movie audience is
comprised of all the world, and that all
the world wants to come to Marathon
Street — some to sell themselves — some to
sell their stories — and some just to take a
look. If Mac made, one exception — it would
be broadcast by the successful crasher —
and the rush would be on!

That's why all day long, Mac must sit
at his post and say "No!" Confidentially,
there's nothing he'd rather say than "Yes!"

MONTH

Another

best

selling

novel

"All

This

and

Heaven

Too,"

comes

to th

3 screen, an

d the

filming

of it,

with Charles

Boyer

and

Bette

Davis in

the starring

roles,

makes

a ga

y and

colorful

story.

Turnabout

[Continued from page 29]

you see Tim go over to Sally's bed and
Sally get into Tim's bed. The husband
and wife have exchanged bodies and from
now on Tim occupies Sally's frame, re-
taining his own voice and individuality,
and Sally occupies Tim's, still speaking
with her own voice.

Which is to say that Carole and John
are handed the arduous task of imper-
sonating each other. Get it?

You might have wondered how on earth
the camera was going to photograph a
man who is all-of-a-sudden dwelling
within his wife's body. That's how. The
transposition is shown by the complete
change in voice and mannerisms. Some-
times husband and wife actually talk in
each other's tones. Sometimes, by
fiendishly clever synchronization, it is
John Hubbard's mouth, for example, that
moves but really Carole's voice in the
sound track.

Well, when Tim's body with Sally inside
catches up a handbag and waltzes down
to the office, "his" cute little gestures and
feminine chirping cause utter consterna-
tion among office force and clients, espe-
cially in the case of swishy Mr. Pingboom,
played by Franklin Pangborn. But they
create no more havoc than do the gruff
manners and speech of Tim, occupying
Sally's body, when the house servants find
"her" shinning up flagpoles.

The complications turn out to be hu-
morous and numerous. At a luncheon
Tim (in Sally's body) learns how his part-
ners' wives extort extra money from their
unsuspecting husbands; an eye-opener!
The wives are Marion Manning (Mary
Astor) and Irene Clare (Joyce Compton)
and the husbands, respectively, are Phil
Manners (Adolphe Menjou) and Joe
Clare (William Gargan) . Meanwhile, at
the office Sally (in Tim's body) learns
many a ruse of the advertising trade, in-
cluding the employment of pretty models
to help put over sales with hesitant ad-
vertisers.

The complications in the home receive
no little impetus from Henry, the butler
(Donald Meek in one of his funniest roles)
and from Josephine, a Malayan sun bear
which closely resembles an Australian
honey bear, and likes to wreck boudoirs
by a raid on perfumes and powder.

At the office, the action involves secre-
tary Laura Bannister (Verree Teasdale),
Southern-accented secretary Dixie Gale
(Margaret Roach, Hal Roach's daughter),
a staff that includes Miss Edwards and
Miss Twill (Inez Courtney and Polly Ann
Young), a masseur (Murray Alper) and
Ito (Miki Morita), a jiujitsu specialist.
More about Miki later.

As may be imagined, Tim-within-
Sally's body is sick of his bargain, and

the same goes for Sally-within-Tim's.
Together, they beg Mr. Ram to transpose
them again so that Sally can be a hostess
and Tim a business executive. Since they
are agreed on this wish also, Mr. Ram
grants it. But as they joyfully turn away,
he calls them back. Worriedly he con-
fesses that there is one thing he over-
looked in the second transposition, and
it's too late to do anything about it. . . .
Tim staggers from the room wild-eyed
and horror-struck. Sally comes out
screaming with laughter. Dear Reader,
Sally all the time has been cherishing a
little secret — but thanks to Mr. Ram's neg-
ligence, it is Tim now who is going to have
that baby.

H Let's draw a veil over what friend
husband thinks of this development
and go back to a point long before he
heard of the baby at all; to a point, say,
right after he becomes she, and she be-
comes he. Behold John and Carole, then,
trying with might and main to act like
each other. No easy snap, for she is blond
and alluring and he is stalwart, with the
physique of a male who has more than his
share of swimming and tennis cups.

The husband, dwelling within his wife's
body, folded "his" arms and paced in agi-
tation up and down the bedroom. It was
Carole, of course, who rehearsed the
pacing.

"Carole!" That was Director-Producer
Roach. "Don't take those ladyfied steps!
Be a man!"

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Carole paced the floor again.
"I don't hold my elbows in my hands
when I fold my arms," said John Hubbard.

Grimly Carole crossed her arms, length-
ened her steps. "You can't be a perfect
gentleman without a six-foot stride, eh?"
she said, "okay, but I'm coming down on
my heels so hard they nearly go through
the top of my head. How you men can
stamp around like this — "

"We don't cram ourselves into high
heels is why," John reminded her, "we
keep our feet on the ground."

"Ha!" Carole answered. The answer
was explained when she rehearsed Sally's
meeting with some girl friends, Sally still
being really Tim. With manly tread
Carole crossed the room, threw herself
into a chair, and flung one leg across the
chair arm. Later, she lifted both feet to
the table edge. "See?" she said, "I've been
watching you. Heaven's sake, I never
realized there was such a difference in the
way men and women behave. The way
men sling themselves over furniture. . . ."

"Look," John interrupted, "this is how
a man holds a cigarette. Not as if it were
a lighted firecracker."

Carole took a he-clutch on her cigarette
and watched with delight while John re-
hearsed imitations of 7ier. Rushing for the
office — Sally's personality in Tim's body —
he snatched up a handbag as if it were a
tennis racquet and fluttered toward the
door.

"Wait!" Director Roach called, "a
woman takes a handbag — look, like this..."
He dabbed at it as if it were red-hot,
thrust it gingerly under his arm, and
Carole burst into laughter. "You do it,"
Roach suggested.

Carole picked up the handbag as if it
were a handbag. "How can men be so
awkward over the simplest, everyday
gestures?"

"Awkward!" John repeated, "sa-ay, you
don't even know how to put your hands in
your pockets." He was standing at the
moment near a door of his palatial black
and gold office suite. Those offices con-
tained long, black marble corridors so
slick you could skate on them, not to men-
tion a steam room, showers and suchlike.
"Awkward!" John muttered again and,
Sally-in-Tim's-body, he minced along
the corridor; "to be a perfect lady you
have to act as if your ankles were chained.
I can play golf all day, but after walking
like a woman for half an hour my legs
ache so the next morning I can hardly
hobble."

Shaking his head, he opened the hand-
bag, made a dive for the compact, and be-
gan furiously to powder his nose.

"Hey!" Carole cried, "hold it, hold it!
That isn't shaving lather, you know."

John wiped off the surplus powder, fell
into a chair, and shuffled the handbag to
and fro. "What do they do with their
hands?" he said, and ran his fingers
through his hair in a masculine-John-
Hubbard gesture that it took Carole
fifteen minutes' practice to imitate.

H Her most difficult stunt was standing

with one foot on a chair and giving

the attitude an authentic masculine aura

when Tim, though transposed into his

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wife's body, suddenly fell into his he-man
pose. John's most painful achievement
was wearing a lacy, expensive nightgown
and, as Sally-within-Tim, looking expen-
sive and feminine in it. After production
ended he asked if he could have the night-
gown. Wondering, they gave it to him and
in front of the whole cast he tore it into
tiny fragments. An understandable re-
action.

Naturally, for such a remarkable story
the sets are remarkable. The Willows
penthouse, for instance, has a wide,
classic type of terrace with a glorious view
of the New York skyline ... a proper
background for the really magnificent
clothes worn by the women of the cast.
There's a gold gown for Mary Astor, as
one item. For Carole Landis, as Mrs.
Tim Willows, there's an exquisite char-
treuse taffeta basque with a flaring skirt
of net embroidered in iridescent bril-
liants.

And jewels! With the chartreuse gown,
Carole wore $28,500 worth of gems; yes,
real ones. She had an $18,000 bracelet of
diamonds topped by a star sapphire big
as a wrist watch; a choker solid with dia-
monds that built up in front to a solitaire
the size of a radish surmounted by a wal-
loping sapphire; a yellow tiger's-eye ring;
and diamond and sapphire earrings. In
another scene, she wore scads of diamonds
and great, blazing rubies.

Last time I'd seen Carole, on the
1,000,000 B.C. set, she wore a scrap of ani-
mal skin and a handful of shells. So did
John.

"But we're in the advertising business
now," Carole explained. She gave the sap-
phire bracelet a wiggle. "Only, I have to
take them all off before I leave the studio."

"And go home in slacks," Bill Gargan
said.

H Truly, Carole replied, she preferred
the slacks. This new actress (from
Wisconsin) is an outdoor person, adept in
most outdoor sports. Fond of vigorous
exercise, she found it no hardship to learn,
from John Hubbard, how to shadow-box.
As for jiujitsu —

Carole happened to be wearing a lus-
cious negligee the afternoon Miki Morita,
jiujitsu trainer, came on the set. Director
Roach had been dubious about some of the
jiujitsu scenes; Miki was there to demon-
strate their harmlessness in the right
hands. He illustrated some holds on
Gargan, tied him into intricate knots, and
paused to explain that it was all in the
trick of knowing how. You didn't really
have to kill anyone.

"I know a pretty good trick," Carole
observed, trailing up in the demure negli-
gee and putting her hand on Roach's wrist.
The director winked indulgently at the
cast. Next moment his 195 pounds flew
through the air to land upon the creaking
springs of a prop couch.

"Miss Landis my very good pupil," Miki
divulged with a gratified smile.

So Roach left the jiujitsu scenes in. He
had been chiefly afraid they might prove
too much for Carole. As Miki explained
further, "lady who knows jiujitsu can
conquer a gentleman who doesn't" — but
just the same Carole began to wonder if

her role was making her a trifle manly
after all. For that very afternoon, in the
course of a shadow-boxing lesson from
Hubbard, she unintentionally clipped him
on the chin. John, off balance, tripped
over the edge of a rug and went down.
Both she and John took a lot of ribbing as
a result.

■ There was plenty of ribbing, off and on,
for each and sundry. One day Menjou

showed up on the set at nine a.m., when his
call was for two p.m. Verree Teasdale, his
wife, had manipulated messages so that
he arrived as early as she did. Menjou
got his revenge by murmuring in Roach's
ear: "Terrible!" whenever Verree played a
scene.

Roach, who pretended to consider this
partly a criticism of his direction, con-
trived to cook up a little revenge himself.
There's a reckless, riotous sequence where
Menjou and Gargan smash a radio to
smithereens. Menjou had his own cane
hooked on his elbow, his favorite $20
malacca. For the smashing, they had a
cheap prop substitute in readiness, but
just before the ructions started Roach
managed to juggle the canes. Heartily
Menjou fell upon the radio, broke the cane
in two . . . and realized that it was his pet.
Things were lively for a while.

Roach bought him another malacca. He
said Menjou's face at the moment of
realization was worth it.

■ Indeed, the ribbing on that set grew
so continuous that Gargan ribbed

himself Unintentionally, and as a direct
result of those jiujitsu demonstrations.
At Palm Springs over the week end, Bill
wanted to try his hand at calf-roping;
thought he could, if necessary, use some
of the jiujitsu holds.

"It took me about seven minutes to
throw and tie that critter," he related on
his return, "this I'm told is some sort of a
record — like running the 100-yard dash in
thirty minutes." An adept, he said, can
perform the feat in around five seconds.
But, he added, though it took him seven
minutes to throw the calf, it took the calf
only four minutes to throw him.

"Old cowhands and everybody said
they'd never seen anything like it. This
phase of the battle reached its climax with
me on the ground and the calf, which
weighed some four hundred pounds,
sitting on me. We had a time persuading
the calf to get up and go on with the game."

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now and send your favorite snapshot or negative
today. DEAN STUDIOS, Dept. 120, 211 7th
St., Des Moines, Iowa.

^The

People's
^ Choice

fiiii

AH Around the Town

Left, Deanna Durbim looking very grown-up and dashing in
flowered turban and veil, smiles happily at Vaughn Paul at the
party which followed the preview of her new film, It's a Date

Above, it's a new way to deliver
flowers, but it seemed to please
Ann Sheridan when hers arrived
by parachute from a flying admirer

Vivien Leigh and Robert
Taylor are co-starred in
Waterloo Bridge, their second
film together. She played a
small part in his A Yank at
Oxford several seasons ago

Tyrone Power and Annabella
were prepared for cold weather in
New York in April when they paid
a flying visit to the bigtown shows

Above, Frances Robinson
and Mary Astor give Errol
Flynn a taste of real action
in the snow on the way to
Virginia City's big premiere

Right, Jean Cagney, sister of
the famous James, with her
beautiful pointer pups, born
during filming of her Para-
mount film, Golden Gloves

- g>

D ing P°PuUrit ^Y * based n °m iif«- Or, b& d^ived *

^^ '" iSl SSi°n Tories'

\ / Ge' yo«, COft

«>adlng

thriJJ

JTED IN U. S. A.

Introducing Chesterfield's
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lust make your next pack Chesterfields, that's all, and
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busiest cigarette in America.

/ THEY SATISFY

TTiTTiiFi TI-TT

NT MOVIE MAGAZINE IN TH

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SPEND A DAY WITH DEANNA DURBIN

the

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Ost

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I i ij

©CJB 457891 J^ "8 1940

Vol. 29 No. 7

W. H. "BUZZ" FAWCETT, JR., President
LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor

Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

First Rule for Romance (Dorothy Lamour) ... by Gordon Barrington 18

Capturing a Jungle Baby 19

The Boy Who Gets Everything He Wants (Robert Stack)

by Franc Dillon 21

A Day With Deanna by Jessie Henderson 22

Comes the Revolution (The Howards of Virginia)

by Llewellyn Miller 24

Signs of Success (Lon Chaney, Jr.) by Kolma Flake 26

English Broken Here (Michael Curtiz) by Elmer Sunfield 28

A Ghost Story (Earthbound) by E. J. Smithson 30

Tale of a Turbulent Triangle (All This, and Heaven Too)

by Duncan Underhill 32

Don't Be a Droop by Helen Louise Walker 34

If You're in Love, Stay Out of Hollywood by Beth Brown 38

The Villain Still Pursuing 66

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Duncan Underhill 6

The Show Goes On by The Editor 12

Toasting Beauty by Ann Vernon 14

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 16

Movie Masquerade 42

Movie Crossword 52

Feeding the Bunch by Betty Crocker 60

MOVIELAND TOUR: Last Call for Hollywood 15

Marie Wilson

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc., 1100 West Broadway, Louisville, Ky. Printed in U. S. A. Entered as second-class matter at the post
office at Louisville. Ky., under the act of March 3, 1S79, with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 1940 by Fawcett Publications, Inc. Eliott Odell, Advertising Director;
Hoscoe K. Fawcett, Circulation Director; Ralph Daigh, Managing Editor; Al Allard, Art Director; E. J. Smithson, Western Manager. General offices, Fawcett Building. Greenwich,
Conn. Trademark registered in U. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and possessions; $1.00 in Canada: foreign subscriptions $1.50. Foreign sub-
scriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich. Conn. Single issue five cents. Advertising forms close on the 18th of
third month preceding date of issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence concerning subscriptions to Fawcett Building. Greenwich, Conn.
Advertising offices: New York, 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 360 N. Michigan Ave.; San Francisco, Simpson-Reilly, 1014 Buss Building; Los Angeles, Simpson-Reilly, Garfield Bids.
Editorial offices, 1501 Broadway, New York City; Hollywood office, 8555 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, California.

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H The real balminess of the Hollywood
silly season is setting in, with the
Crisco Keed making the pace. This is not
a typographical error, but a brief de-
scription of one of the most enchantingly
nutty foibles of an enchantingly nutty
town.

The new series of Cisco Kid pictures,
starring Cesar Romero at Twentieth
Century, have caught on at the box office
and the character is becoming widely
known. Romero is seen frequently in
public places in Hollywood during
production and has to endure a lot of
good-natured ribbing and inferior Mexi-
can-dialect conversation.

It remained for a couple of imaginative

Naturally, this is pretty startling con-
versation to be coming from an ap-
parently sane and responsible patron. But
if it doesn't turn out to be disconcerting
enough, Miss Kaye chips in with:

"You no like dat, hey? Den I keel you.
I am de Crisco Kiddo and I go frying
t'rough de night and also tomorrow night
and sometimes Saturday night. I also fry
t'rough de wilderness and de desert."

Well, this sort of thing has spread so
generally through the Universal studio
that you can't get a sensible word in
English out of anybody. The production
lot and the commissary and the cutting
rooms sound like quaint Mexican slums
to be in full blast of violent conversation.

Carole Landis and John Hubbard look very much dismayed indeed, and no wonder.
They are playing in Turnabout, in which a husband finds himself magically trans-
ferred to his wife's body, and she discovers herself reluctantly inhabiting his!

youngsters at Universal to inject the final
note of dafhness into the Cisco Kid busi-
ness. They are Troy Orr, an exploitation
man, and Marie Kaye, a dance arranger
now working in The Boys jrom Syracuse.

By good luck both these frivolous folk
are very dark of complexion and could
easily be mistaken for Latins, a circum-
stance of which they take the utmost ad-
vantage. In bars, restaurants and taxicabs
they run up respectable bills and when the
time comes to pay, Mr. Orr says with
an expression of ferocity and with a
villainous voice:

"I no pay you, you gringo dog. I am
de Crisco Keed and I fry t'rough de night
like de wind. I no pay, I steal everyt'eeng
I need."

And the mania has spread to the heart
of Hollywood. Apparently respectable
retired bankers are heard refusing to pay
their hotel bills because — "they are the
Crisco Keed."

■ All the maps published daily in the
papers will never apparently acquaint
the wives of some Hollywood producers
that Austria and Australia are not identi-
cal or interchangeable.

On her most recent return from Mel-
bourne, Mona Barrie, who works on both
stage and screen and has recently been
portraying a gun-moll in Universal's
Love, Honor, and Oh Baby!, happened to
mention the fact that she had just come
from Australia.

TULLIO CARMINATI • MURIEL ANGELUS
LYNNE OVERMAN • BILLY GILBERT

DIRECTED BY EDWARD H. GRIFFITH

Screen Play by Delmer Daves • Based on a Story by Paul Hervey Fox

LYNNE OVERMAN as the canny Scot
who doesn't give a "hoot" about women !

"Not really?" her hostess inquired in
frightfully cultured tones. "How long
have you been in this country?"

"A month," Mona said.

"Amazing," the amazed lady amazed.
"In this country only one short month.
Your English is very understandable —
almost perfect. And you have a very
good vocabulary. It discourages me. I
know I should never be able to master
Austrian in so short a time."

9 Ernest Shoedsack, the skyscraping
director of Dr. Cyclops and co-
producer of King Kong, got himself
tangled up in one of his own old practical
jokes during one of the busiest periods
in his career.

A traveler on all continents and the
kind of chap who likes to have natural
and authentic backgrounds for his ad-
venture pictures, Shoedsack went out to
the Sudan and Portuguese East Africa in
1932 to photograph exteriors for a picture

to be completed at the Paramount studio
in Hollywood.

There was a rule then, slightly amended
since, that every expenditure on every
picture had to be accounted for down to
the nickel. Shoedsack, struggling with
native mobs, bad food, bad co-operation
from governmental authorities, and all the
exotic local diseases, decided he couldn't
be bothered doing all this himself.

So at the end of each day he set down
a lump sum and had every one of his
temporary employees, all natives, write
and sign vouchers for the money they had
received as salary and for various goods
and services.

Periodically there would arrive in the
Hollywood accounting department a
bundle of scrap paper written in all
known African languages and many
languages unknown anywhere. Re-
proached about this, Shoedsack cabled
that he hadn't time to do the translating
along with his regular work. So the ac-

countants stored the thousands of tattered
pieces of paper.

But when Shoedsack had completed
Dr. Cyclops, eight years later, the hard
losers in the accounting department again,
confronted him with the bundle of re-
ceipted bills and asked him to itemize
them. This interesting request came at
a time when he was borne down with
lecture engagements, commitments to
make personal appearances, write maga-
zine and newspaper stories and do radio
and television plugging.

The director has traveled in all the
world's jungles but never knew 'til now
that accountants are made of the same
materials as elephants.

fl Laurence Olivier, before setting out
with Vivien Leigh to tour Romeo and
Juliet, concocted a gag to play on his old
friend and director, Alfred Hitchcock.

Knowing that the 239-pound Hitchcock
was a lover of fine bottled goods for use

at gala dinners, Olivier got hold of a prop
Napoleon brandy bottle and had the
studio laboratory fill it up with a solution
of photo developing chemicals. The re-
sult of the chemists' endeavors was an
evil-smelling and foul tasting concoction
unfit to slide down a drain, let alone the
throat of a connoisseur.

Some time later Olivier inquired by
letter whether Hitchcock had enjoyed the
gift. The director, no novice ribber him-
self wrote back:

"I sent your very kind gift to a des-
perately sick friend of mine. After drink-
ing some of the brandy he took a sudden
turn for the worse."

Olivier was so remorse-stricken that
he had to be reassured by wire that
Hitchcock had recognized at a distance of
thirty paces that the contents of the bottle
was not brandy.

When Darryl Zanuck moved out of
his Beverly Hills- home to a ranch in
the San Fernando Valley, he didn't get

an immediate offer for the town house,
which is a pretty elaborate affair with
swimming pool, badminton courts, caba-
nas and all the fittings of well-upholstered
life.

A few of the boys around the studio
asked permission to use the swimming
pool occasionally while the agents were
showing the place to prospective pur-
chasers. Zanuck, a generous soul, agreed
to the plan.

So the boys got up a bathing club, had
a handy telephone installed between the
pool and the badminton courts, and alto-
gether fixed themselves up a nice little
summer resort.

Every time they heard a car pull into
the driveway, they feared somebody was
going to buy or rent the place and dis-
possess them from their little hideaway
paradise, to which they got more accus-
tomed and attached every day.

So, with no more malice than neces-
sary, when prospective buyers did arrive,

the Zanuck Swimming Club members
took them aside and warned them con-
fidentially that the whole estate was reek-
ing with termites, dry rot, decayed
plumbing, closeted skeletons and an en-
tire family of ghosts.

Only a couple of years have passed
since Zanuck moved away from Rodeo
Drive. He thinks the real estate market
is pretty sluggish.

■ Informality is setting in fast in the
new movies. Frank Craven, in the
forthcoming Our Town acknowledges
frankly that the production is a movie and
even speaks from the screen instructing
the projectionist to go ahead with the
show.

Another evidence of the trend is a
passage of dialogue from Foreign Corre-
spondent, which will employ the talents
of Joel McCrea, Laraine Day, Herbert
Marshall and Robert Benchley.

Benchley, reproaching McCrea for sup-

Charles

All this,

AND

Heaven

TOO

From the World-Applauded Novel By

oyp

IN ALL ITS GLORY, with the full

fire of its deep-stirring story,
this beloved best-seller sweeps
to the summit of screen
achievement! And never have
its stars come to you so
immeasurably magnificent,
or brought you a drama that
touches so close to your heart.
You will, of course, see it!

Especially distinguished in the supporting cast
of this new WARNER BROS. Success, are

JEFFREY LYNN
BARBARA O'NEIL

Virginia Weidler * Henry Daniell

Walter Hampden • George Coulouris

AN ANATOLE L1TVAK

PRODUCTION

Screen Play by Casey Robinson • Mush- by Max Steiner
A Warner Bros. -First National Picture

.•«•'

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pressing a tremendous yarn about spies
and intrigues, says:

"Here you've got the biggest news story
in years and won't print it because of
love. What are we in here — a musical
comedy? Or is it a movie?"

| Jack Warner, production head of the
big brotherly studio in Burbank, is
sometimes given to wearing clothes as
vivid and daring as the pattern of his
picture productions.

At the Frank Capra reception at Ciro's
he arrived wearing a checked sport coat
with a pattern so pronounced that it could
be seen from South Carolina on a clear
day.

"Do you think this is a little loud?"
he asked one of the studio officials stand-
ing in the receiving line.

"Why, no," the chap responded, trying
to be agreeable.

"That's an underestimate," Warner
corrected. "I went in the bank this after-
noon and the burglar alarm went off."

| Montagu Love recognizes as well as

anybody that his name sounds as

phony as the movie names of the early

Pickford era — the Darlings, the Prettys

and the Caprices.

But the thing is his own, he's used to
it, and he has invested so much trouble
and effort in it that he's hanged if he'll
discard it now, 'when it graces the casting
sheet of a Universal picture with the
equally quaint title of One of the Boston
Bullertons.

The Montagu in Montagu's name is the
way Shakespeare spelled it in Romeo and
Juliet, to describe Romeo's family. Yet
nobody ever misspells Juliet's family
name as "Capulete."

Once during a Shakespearean engage-
ment Love asked the company press agent

to leave off the final "e" from his name.
So for the rest of the tour all the bill-
boards and lobby displays announced the
forthcoming appearance of "Montague
Lov."

■ Vera West, head stylist at Universal
who has been occupied lately design-
ing costumes for the provocative figures
of Marlene Dietrich and Mae West, is
currently creating ballet costumes, negli-
gees and hostess coats for Joe Penner in
The Boys from Syracuse.

[ Dazzled by his own versatility in
La Conga Nights, Hugh Herbert will
undertake in his next picture to play the
roles of a taxi driver, a valet, a stock
salesman, a cockroach exterminator, a
Scottish nobleman and a kibitzer at a
royal court. The production will not be
named after any of these characters.

■ Having created a notable stir at the
preview of his first picture in four

years, an unpretentious independent
studio production called Son of the Navy,
James Dunn was immediately hunted
down by studio scouts to do a more pre-
tentious film.

But by the time the studio emissaries
got around to interviewing him at his
home, Jimmy had caught a swell case of
influenza.

Accustomed to playing seventy-two
holes of golf nearly every day of the
year, he forgot to cut down on his food
ration while bedded, with the result that
when the scouts came in to inspect him
he appeared to be twenty pounds over-
weight.

When Jimmy gets back to normal,
they will be around for another inspec-
tion.

Hard to recognize is Pat O'Brien made up for his part in The Life of Knute Rockne.
He is chatting on the set with Mary Andersen and Gale Page between final scenes

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By THE EDITOR

There is also a LIQUID NONSPI — at
drug and department stores.

| Charles Boyer, who is forty-one years
old, made the startling statement when
he was in New York last month, "Love
begins at forty." You will find his reasons
for that belief, and some interesting argu-
ments to uphold his theory in the August
Hollywood Magazine. On the cover is a
singularly attractive picture of the star
who represents to so many people the last
word in sophisticated appeal.

fg The last we heard from our favorite
extra, the dashing E. J. Smithson, was
that he was in a quandary. He was terribly
torn between two jobs that were offered
to him at the same time. He was fascinated
by the idea of working in The Life of
Brigham Young at Twentieth Century-
Fox because he frankly admitted that any
man who was able to keep peace in a house
containing twenty wives must have a great
message for modern men who seem to
have undue difficulty in keeping only one
wife away from Reno. Mr. Smithson's own
home life is a very happy one so his curi-
osity was quite impersonal. He was
equally fascinated with the idea of work-
ing in The Boys from Syracuse at Uni-
versal. This is the musical version of
Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors which
made such a hit on Broadway last season.
Our Mr. Smithson, who is a great lover of
the classics, especially when they are done
with trick photography and modern songs,
felt that he should lend his presence to
that comedy in the interests of culture.
We urged him to bicycle between both
plants and get reports on both pictures,
and judge that he is doing so because his

prolonged silence can mean only that he
is too busy to write. Unless he has gone
off on location with the Virginia company,
and is afraid to break the news that he has
deserted Hollywood.

| Less information and more specula-
tion has been produced by Charlie
Chaplin's The Dictator than by any other
picture in years. But now, at long last, we
have a real inside story about the plot and
the players. Jack Oakie, who plays the
role of "Benzino Gasolini," tells of his
difficulties in keeping his chin out, and the
hilarious adventures of the other members
of the cast who burlesque characters now
all too familiar in the headlines. Don't miss
the news of this film which is one of the
most important among the fall releases.

SILLY-DILLY CONTEST

Evidently all of our readers are bright as
buttons, because the answers in the Sill y-
D i My contest are clever! The judges are
to be found chuckling happily one mo-
ment, and scowling with worry the next
over the difficulties of choosing winners.
As this issue goes to press, all of the
entries are not in, and the postman brings
a big bundle of new Silly-Dillies on each
trip, but the judges are bravely opening
and sorting the entries as they arrive,
so we shall have the names of the winners
ready for an early issue.

Charles Boyer and his wife, Pat Paterson, were on hand to welcome his mother on
her arrival in New York from France. Boyer plays next in All This, and Heaven Too

LAST CALL

FOR

HOLLYWOOD

■ There is still time to join the big 1940
Fawcett Movieland Tour. But if you
want to enjoy a glorious two weeks' vaca-
tion of travel and Hollywood thrills,
you must act now. There is no time to
lose!

The 1940 Movieland Tour leaves Chicago
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Pullmans will take you through some of
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In the movie colony you will be royally
entertained at the great Paramount Studio,
see all the sights of the glamour capital,
dine with the stars in the studio commis-
sary, watch pictures being made, and
enjoy many special privileges that are
barred to ordinary tourists.

In addition, members of the Fawcett
Movieland Tour will be the personal
guests at a cocktail party on the lavish
estate of Joan Blondell and Dick Powell,
and will have an opportunity of becoming
acquainted with these two popular
stars.

These are only a few of the highlights of
a trip packed with fun, excitement and
new experiences.

But you must act promptly! Clip out
the coupon on this page and obtain with-
out obligation a booklet describing all
details of the Movieland Tour in full. The
price is extremely moderate. The entire
expense of the Tour may be as little as

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ANN SHERIDAN starring in the new
Warner Bros, picture "TORRID
ZONE"- . • with make-up by Perc
Westmore.

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HOLLYWOOD %S

iisiraaHsnaniuti^i

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

ONE MILLION B. C. — United Artists

S Bad table manners were only one of
the differences between the handsome
young man from the Rock Tribe and the
beauteous little blonde from the Shell
Tribe. Members of the Rock Tribe were
very impolite to their mothers, cruel to
their children and quite without sympathy
for their wounded. How different was life
in the Shell Tribe! There all was gaiety
and merriment when it came time to serve
the vegetable stew. They helped each
other over the more jagged rocks, and
smiled happily at each other the live-
long day.

All of this was a great surprise to Tumak
(Victor Mature) of the Rock Tribe when,
sorely wounded, he drifted down the river
into the domain of the Shell people. Loana
(Carole Landis) startled him first with her
soft coos of pity, a sound he never had
heard before. But after she had given him
her dinner and her place by the fire, he
began to feel less suspicious of the Golden
Rule. Before the film is over, all of the
Rock Tribe is politely eating mastodon
steak off of rude plates and living with
the Shell Tribe in harmony. Even in the
stone age, one kind word from a blonde
changed the course of history.

Chief interest in this film is the elabo-
rate trick photography. While the fakery
of the prehistoric animals is quite appar-
ent in some scenes, others are quite hor-
rifying in their realism, especially one long
and furious fight between two mammoth
saurians who roar and growl and fling
each other into airplane spins all over the
screen. No blondes among the giant saur-
ians, and where are they today?

MY FAVORITE WIFE— RKO

■ Utterly improbable but none the less
hilariously funny is the newest ver-
sion of the story of the nice young person
with too many spouses. Last month, Jean
Arthur dealt with comic success with two
husbands, played by Fred MacMurray and
Melvyn Douglas. This month, Gary Grant
marries Gail Patrick on the very day that
his first wife (Irene Dunne) walks back
after being marooned on a lonely island
for seven years.

In spite of the fact that his first wife
had been declared legally dead, the wor-
ried husband begins to feel very much like
a bigamist when both wives insist on oc-
cupying his home.

The matter is complicated by the fact
that the first wife was not cast away alone.
With her for the seven years was the ex-
tremely handsome and hefty Randolph
Scott, who is eager to take her right back
to the island any time she wants to go.

Were it not for the very clever playing
and direction, this would be a singularly
dull farce, but the comedy values are so
surely handled that it is one of the really
hilariously funny spring offerings.

THE DOCTOR TAKES A WIFE) —
Columbia

| Another good farce, built on a tired
old plot but very funny in effect, is
this story about a spinster who has written
an enormously successful best seller ex-
tolling the single life.

The spinster (Loretta Young) drives
down from the mountains with a sulky
young doctor (Ray Milland) . By accident,
a "Just Married" sign is attached to his
car, and that starts the trouble. Word is
flashed from one end of the country to the
other that the leading spinster of them all
has capitulated. Her publisher (Reginald
Gardiner) is frantic until he realizes that
a fortune is to be made from her book on
marriage.

The young doctor has a fiancee (Gail
Patrick) , who certainly is getting a tough
deal as the other woman of late, so far as
the movies are concerned. She makes
things more than difficult when he gets
a longed-for promotion because of his
"marriage." Angrily, the doctor and the
spinster agree to share her apartment just
long enough to let her new book and his
new appointment get started. Again, play-
ing and direction make an outstanding
comedy success out of very old plot
material.

SAFARI — Paramount

| This time the case for true love is
argued in very clever dialogue in
darkest Africa, with the penniless young
adventurer getting the girl, and the audi-
ence worrying about how he can keep her
in all those pretty clothes from now on.

Linda (Madeleine Carroll) is deter-
mined to marry the wealthy Baron (Tullio
Carminati) and goes into the interior on
a hunting trip, where he is determined to
bag a lion, and she is equally determined
to bag the Baron. As part of her campaign,
she gives a good deal of encouragement to
Logan (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) , chief
hunter, with the result that Logan kills
the lion and gets the girl, also.

How anyone could overlook the fascina-
tion of Lynne Overman's Scottish dialect
is hard to understand. A happy ending, at
least to this department's way of thinking,
would have been for Linda to marry that
dialect, capture the nice old lion and go
into Ringling Brothers' circus. Ah, well.
Maybe next time.

A BILL OF DIVORCEMENT— RKO

| Remakes of films that have been great
successes cannot avoid the handicap
of comparison, and very seldom, no mat-
ter how well played, are they so pleasing
to audiences.

This film is no exception. When it was
made some years ago with John Barry-
more and Katharine Hepburn in the lead-
ing roles, it was a striking success, and her

performance made Miss Hepburn a star.

The interpretation of the present cast is
not so very different, but, because there
is a haunting memory of other faces and
voices, the remake suffers in comparison.

For those who did not see the first ver-
sion, this film has much to offer, because
the story is one of the gripping pieces of
dramatic writing.

Maureen O'Hara plays the girl who
gradually discovers that her father's mal-
ady was not shell-shock when, after sev-
enteen years, he returns from his asylum.
Fay Bainter plays the mother, Herbert
Marshall the man she is to marry, Adolphe
Menjou the father and Patric Knowles
the daughter's fiance.

'TIL WE MEET AGAIN— Warners

B, The same unhappy comparison be-
tween the original version and the re-
make must be made between One Way
Passage and the current version of the
same story, now showing under the new
title, 'Til We Meet Again.

Though the production is rather more
elaborate than when Kay Francis and
William Powell played it, the overtone of
sympathy for the two unfortunate main
characters is somehow missing.

This is the story of a man condemned to
die for murder, you remember, and of a
girl who has only a few months of life left.

By accident they meet in a bar in Hong
Kong, drink a toast, smash their glasses.
Then they find themselves aboard the
same ship. The girl is wandering aim-

lessly, packing as much pleasure into her
last days as she can grasp. The man has
been captured, and is to be executed as
soon as the voyage is over. Neither knows
the other's secret.

Merle Oberon and George Brent play
the parts required of them completely, but
who can help feeling that he was pretty
much of a heel to let a nice girl fall in love
with him. Who can help thinking that she
was a very callous person indeed to take
him off on that trip to the mountains when
she might fall dead at any minute. Not
this gentle and considerate department.

STAR DUST — Twentieth Century-Fox

Of particular interest to those who have
wondered how the talent scouts work and
what happens to their discoveries is this
story of a screen-struck girl.

Roland Young and Charlotte Green-
wood play a talent scout and a voice
coach who have to take a desperate chance
in the interest of a young actress who has
incurred the anger of a double-dealing
casting director, played by Donald Meek.
Linda Darnell and John Payne play the
ycung hopefuls who refuse to leave Holly-
wood, even though their first tests are
failures.

DOWN WENT McGINTY— Paramount

McGinty was just a mug until he made
$78 for voting 34 times in the same elec-
tion. That gave him an idea and a career.
So long as he was consistently dishonest,
he had no trouble. Against his better

judgment, he allowed his wife to talk him
into one honest move, and that was how
McGinty lost the governorship of a great
state. That was how McGinty became a
bartender in a banana-republic dive. That
was how Paramount built an absorbing
story of graft in city government.

Brian Donlevy plays McGinty and
makes that ruthless gentleman amusing at
times, not a little alarming from the tax-
payer's standpoint at others.

Excellent supporting roles are con-
tributed by Muriel Angelus, Akim Tami-
roff, Allyn Joslyn, Steffi Duna, all of whom
help to bring a low budget picture well
above the average of such offerings.

TURNABOUT — United Artists

Tim (John Hubbard) and Sally (Carole
Landis) were happily married, and so they
quarrelled a good deal of the time. This
might have gone on harmlessly had not a
magic spell given them their wish that
each could only have as easy a time as
the other. Tim was horrified when he
woke up one morning to find himself, in
Sally's body, wearing Sally's lacy night-
gown, but still speaking in his own deep
voice. Sally was enchanted with the idea
of sailing off to his office in Tim's body.
There she found out much about Tim's
daytime life, but she nearly wrecked
Tim's career by ladylike opinions and
gestures. Adolphe Menjou, Verree Teas-
dale, Mary Astor, Donald Meek, Joyce
Compton and Franklin Pangborn aid the
giddy farce to its surprising conclusion.

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9 Dottie Lamour was sitting at a desk
in the Paramount publicity building,
having a little fun. She manipulated
papers, in a very, very business-like
fashion, doodled around with a pencil,
clipped one paper to another, smoked
cigarette after cigarette, swung around
and pounded a typewriter, and ma-
neuvered incoming and outgoing phone
calls with the brusk efficiency of a city
editor.

She was wearing a very severe striped
navy blue suit, and a snug-fitting turban.
Not a glimmer of the South Seas any-
where about her. But, her salutation to
incoming phone calls was what intrigued

me most. When the phone rang, she'd
say, without the crack of a smile,
"Lamour Romance Agency. Life can be
a sarong and dance for you, if you follow
our methods and instruction. Dottie
Lamour speaking. What can I do for

your

Which gives you an insight into Lamour
as she actually is. If you follow what I
mean. Maybe this will clear it up. In
this little act she was putting on, she
was burlesquing Lamour the Siren for
all she was worth. The Sarong-Girl, for
Dottie's money, is a movie character.
Dorothy Lamour is something else again,
and she doesn't care who knows it. In
fact, the more people who know it the
better she likes it.

Actually, there's very little of the
primitive about Dottie. Her clothes, her
manner and her conversation reflect a
girl who is very much up-to-date, very
modern, and who borders on
the sophisticated. Not forget-
ting a terrific joie de vivre,
and a swell sense of humor.
But, Dottie can be serious,
too. Somehow or other, we got
into the question of what's the
most important thing in life.
When it came Dottie's turn to
give her opinion, she paused,
very thoughtfully, and made

her remarks with much deliberation:
"For a man," she said, "it's his work.
For a woman, it's love. There you have
it, it seems to me, in a nut-shell. You
can go back a million years, or look a
million years ahead, and you'll still get
the same answer." And she quoted Lord
Byron, "Man's love is of man's life a thing
apart. 'Tis woman's whole existence."

Dottie, though, has learned it's not wise
to go overboard in the matter of uphold-
ing woman's place in the scheme of things.
"If you're really, seriously, in love,"
she said, "the best way to protect that
love, and give it a chance to endure, I
think, is not to show it too plainly. Off-
hand, I think that's the best advice one
could give any girl who's in love, or
thinks she's in love, or is thinking, or
hoping, about falling in love. And it goes
for men, too, for that matter. Some of the
most successful romances I know of are,
on the surface at least, light, flippant, and
seemingly almost careless.

"Which brings in the value of a sense
of humor. If I were asked what I con-
sider to be the first and most important
rule for romance, I'd repeat sense of
humor, sense of humor, over and over
again. And I think I'd be right.

"I've seen so many couples, very much
in love, who have taken themselves and
their romance so terribly to heart that it
just couldn't live up to all they'd expected
of it. After all, nothing is perfect, and
there are bound to be slips, and little
breaks, and little misunderstandings in even the most ideal
romance. A good laugh, or even a good, old-fashioned Irish
fight, in many of the cases I'm thinking of, might have saved
the day. Even if you have to appear to be taking your ro-
mance lightly, at times, a little flippancy, or even a little
feigned indifference will often snap the tension of an over-
seriousness, and will even tend [Continued on page 62]

Dorothy Lamour with Robert

Preston in their next

picture, Typhoon

First Rule for Romance

--^_«^^^« i

Dorothy Lamour on the screen plays
elemental maidens a goodly portion of the
time, but her elementary rule for a sneeessf ul
roinanee In much more sophisticated

Uy (iOltl)OV ItAllltlM.TOX

Capturing a Jungle Baby

Here is the pictorial history of Pantaloons, who plays
a part in Mrs. Martin Johnson's new film, I Married
Adventure. When he was three years old, Pantaloons
became separated from the herd, and was found
wandering in the jungle and crying bitterly. At first
he was suspicious of the Johnsons, but later became
so accustomed to human friends that he flew to the
African coast and made the Atlantic crossing without
losing his poise. Pantaloons spent several years in
the St. Louis zoo where Mrs. Johnson visited him
whenever she was in that city.

And he takes a decided liking
for Martin Johnson's big hat

But he still thinks he better
continue to look for his mama

His first steps are confusing
but he learns to like houses

He also learns to eat neatly
and expect Mrs. Johnson's help

Part of the menagerie and
some of the keepers in Nairobi

•W

Loading Pantaloons on the plane
was the worst of the flying trip 1°

'Ofriw/ K^rf <^&£mtl€&4 PRODUCTION OF

ALICE DON HENRY

FAYE-AMECHE- FONDA

Edward Warren Leo

ARNOLD • WILLIAM • CARRILLO

Helen Westley • Dorothy Peterson

Ernest Truex • Nigel Bruce • Claude

Allister • Lynn Bari • Weber & Fields

Eddie Foy, Jr. • Una O'Connor

Joseph Cawthorn

Directed by Irving Cummings

Associate Producer Gene Markey

Screen Play by William Anthony McGuire

A 20th Century-Fox Picture

The woman whose
beauty and glamor had
the world at her feet!
Diamond Jim Brady
showered her with jewels !
Bankers, industrialists,
the smart and the famous
lost their hearts to her!
Out of the fascinating
story of her life and her
loves, Darryl F. Zanuck
has created one of the real-
ly great motion pictures!

JL.

■ "Will Hollywood
spoil me?" Robert
Stack looked astonished
as he repeated this
question. "Why, Holly-
wood doesn't even
know I'm here."

The more he thought
about it, the more the
idea amused him and,
not being the slightest
bit inhibited, he threw
himself full length on
the divan, kicked up
his heels and laughed.
He looked like an impish
schoolboy, with his rumpled
blond curly hair and a merry
twinkle in his blue eyes,
despite the fact that he stands over
six feet, and was twenty -one last
January.

"That's the silliest thing I ever
heard," he laughed. "Why should
Hollywood spoil me?"

There is no particular reason ex-
cept that it has been done before
and a lot of people would consider
a seven-year contract with Uni-
versal and an appearance as
Deanna Durbin's leading man in a
first picture a good excuse for get-
ting a swelled head. The most con-
vincing argument that he will keep
his feet on the ground is that, no
matter what success may come to
him on the screen, Hollywood
hasn't a thing to offer him that he
hasn't already had. •

"I've always had everything I
wanted," he admitted, and added
quickly, "if I wanted it badly
enough. Oh, of course I'd like to
have a plane right now. I can't
afford it. But if I really wanted
it badly enough I'd save and save
and save my money until I could
buy one."

Having everything one wants for
twenty-one years is considered
a short cut to being spoiled in any
language, but Bob's friends say
they were never given reason to
feel that he had more of the world's
goods than they had. "He always
earned everything he had," one
of them said recently, "and
if he had more money than we
had, he spent it on motors and
guns— not in putting on the Ritz."

Before he could talk,
Bob was taken to France
to live. He narrowly
escaped being
detained on Ellis
Island when he
returned five
years later.
Warned by the
captain of the
ship that the
child would be
suspected of
being a war
[Continued on
page 44]

Robert Stock is twenty-one years old
and he has had to work hard for what
he has, bnt he never has failed to get
anything he really wanted to have

By FRANC DILLON

fcfl

The Boy Who Gels

Everything He Wants

A Day With Deanna

Go through a day with the lassie who is a ranking
picture star at seventeen, and see how her life
differs from that of other high school girls

( f

By JESSIE HENDERSON

| Down a side street within view of the
Hollywood High School you'll see, almost
any afternoon, a girl of seventeen in a gray
coupe. Her sports dress is blue to match those
sparkling eyes. Her light brown hair is caught
back with a blue ribbon. Except perhaps for
a singularly alert look, you'd find nothing to
distinguish her from the hundreds of girls the
same age who pour from the cream stucco
building.

With an expert yank at the wheel she parks
beside the curb. And just sits there, watching
the kids come out of school.

A lesson or a philosophy or something lies
in this hitherto unrevealed habit — maybe a twist
to the law of compensation. For the girl in the
coupe is Deanna Durbin.

Sometimes she sits there as long as half an
hour, on the way home from a voice lesson,
absorbed in the everyday spectacle of the girls
in the flower-printed dresses and bright sandals
as they form groups or break up, or, calling
vigorous goodbyes, dart exuberantly down
Sunset Boulevard. Her expression betrays a
certain envy — they seem so sort of carefree.
Not exactly that she wants to change places, or
that she's the least bit maudlin-sentimental,
but — she can't stroll around with crowds of high
school kids.

As a matter of fact, if those same youngsters
realized who was watching them, she'd be
mobbed. For, to ninety per cent of high school
girls she's an idol and a dictator. They
copy the hair-do, the manner. If news
niters through that she's eating egg
sandwiches for lunch, try and get the
real devotees to eat anything else.
Don't think that Deanna wants
to be a dictator. Her very sim-
plicity, her unaffected attitude
toward fame, the feeling that
she's after all "one of us," forms
the true [Continued on page 47]

Up at 6:30. Dressing takes
just a very few fast minutes

She doesn't like breakfast but
mother and father insist on it

Discussions with director Henry
Koster are important in her work

Senior high school studies A daily duty is practising Swimming in her own pool
are part of the studio day with Andres de Segurola is part of most afternoons

And she is a fearfully fast
player at the ping-pong table

A Day With Deanna

i^~ 4l..«..Al. A Jta,

inlrintf

(. I

Go <hr..H«li a day with the lassie who Is a ranking
pleture star at seventeen, and see how her II
differs from that of other high sehoo

A Day With Deanna

r*-

By JESSIE HENDEBSON

fj Down a side street within view of the
Hollywood High School you'll see, almost
any afternoon, a girl of seventeen in a gray
coupe. Her sports dress is blue to match those
sparkling eyes. Her light brown hair is caught
back with a blue ribbon. Except perhaps for
a singularly alert look, you'd find nothing to
distinguish her from the hundreds of girls the
same age who pour from the cream stucco
building.

With an expert yank at the wheel she parks
beside the curb. And just sits there, watching
the kids come out of school.

A lesson or a philosophy or something lies
in this hitherto unrevealed habit— maybe a twist
to the law of compensation. For the girl in the
coupe is Deanna Durbin.

Sometimes she sits there as long as half an
hour, on the way home from a voice lesson,
absorbed in the everyday spectacle of the girls
in the flower-printed dresses and bright sandals
as they form groups or break up, or, calling
vigorous goodbyes, dart exuberantly down
Sunset Boulevard. Her expression betrays a
certain envy— they seem so sort of carefree.
Not exactly that she wants to change places, or
that she's the least bit maudlin-sentimental,
but— she can't stroll around with crowds of high
school kids.

As a matter of fact, if those same youngsters
realized who was watching them, she'd be
mobbed. For, to ninety per cent of high school
girls she's an idol and a dictator. They
copy the hair-do, the manner. If news
filters through that she's eating egg
sandwiches for lunch, try and get the
real devotees to eat anything else.
Don't think that Deanna wants
to be a dictator. Her very sim-
plicity, her unaffected attitude
toward fame, the feeling that
she's after all "one of us," forms
\ the true [Continued on page 47]

Conies the Revolution

A magnificent background trill match the
absorbing story of the Revolutionary War
now being filmed. The town of Williams-
burg, restored to its colonial charm, is to be
seen for the first time in a feature picture

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

Photo* by Bob Cobvrn

Above, extras, mail
from William and Mary
College, in costumes
brought from Hollywood,
hear the news of the death
of King George, Second

Just as it wu in the days
before the Revolution, the
town of Williamsburg will
be seen in The Howard*
of Virginia. In the back-
ground are extras waiting
for costumes to «rrive

Virginia's Governor,
James H. Price, and
Cary Grant with The
Tree of Liberty on which
the new picture is based

AH employees in exhibi-
tion houses in Williams-
burg are in costume.
Here a watchman doffs
his three-cornered hat

The Royal Coat of Arms
of Queen Anne is hung
in the Governor's Coun-
cil Room. Grant spent
hours studying exhibits

■ Before a single camera turned on The
Howards of Virginia, twenty million
dollars had been spent on the settings.

In the past, Hollywood has built mag-
nificent imitations of magnificent back-
grounds for its period pictures. Lavish
plaster and lath reproductions of famous
places have been constructed in a few
weeks at the cost of several hundred thou-
sands of dollars, torn down in a few days
after they have served their brief duty
to celluloid drama. But never has any-
thing been turned out in Hollywood to
equal the twenty million dollar back-
ground which will be seen in the film ver-
sion of Elizabeth Page's novel, The Tree of
Liberty. Never has Hollywood spent ten
years in perfecting, down to each tiny
detail, a town such as Williamsburg in
Virginia is today.

Ten years ago, John D. Rockefeller, Jr.,
undertook to restore the historic build-
ings which fast were falling victims to
the inroads of modern enterprise, and to
build a replica of the town where the
fathers of the Revolution met for protests
that were to lead to independence for the
United States.

Rockefeller planned the restoration as
a gift to his country ... a gift of living
history ... so that any American walk-
ing down the tree-shaded Duke of Glou-
cester Street might let his imagination
rove free, back through the decades, and
feel himself part of the very beginnings
of this democracy. With such painstak-
ing care, with such laborious research
has the town been reconstructed, that
the visitor can almost see young Tom Jef-
ferson cutting classes at William and Mary
College, ambling down the shady street

Right, Richard Carlson poses with the
Editor of HOLLYWOOD Magazine be-
fore a quaint portrait of a chubby
little girl who once rolled her hoop
in Williamsburg many generations ago

to the Raleigh Tavern, ordering a pint of
ale and sipping it in front of the polished
bar where George Washington and Pat-
rick Henry and other great Virginians so
often stood beside him.

Sixty-six Colonial buildings were still
standing when the monumental task of
rebuilding Williamsburg was started.
They were meticulously stripped of their
latter-day additions, carefully patched
and pieced and returned to their sturdy
original forms. Eighty-four buildings
have been totally rebuilt on their original
foundations, and furnished in minute de-
tail as they were before wars and fire and
time destroyed them.

Four hundred and fifty modern build-
ings were torn down to make way for the
new version of one of the oldest towns in
America. A Federal Highway was re-
routed. Two and a half miles of railroad
tracks were moved firmly out of sight to
the modern outskirts of the town, and all
telephone and service wires were dropped
under the streets.

Fortunately, when the wealthy gover-
nors of Virginia came to this new land,
they kept elaborate records of all ma-
terials ordered from England. There were
bales of requisitions and minutely detailed
specifications filed away in London, call-
ing for everything from handsomely
decorated tiles for fireplaces to plans for
the holly-maze in the Governor's garden.

Miss Barbara Hamilton bids Director
Frank Lloyd a gracious welcome to her
town with a pretty curtsey quite in the
mood of her old-fashioned costume

From these plans, the beautiful Gover-
nor's place, destroyed by fire many years
ago, was restored [Continued on page 53]

■ Lon Chaney, Jr., has a fine powerful voice,
though he never became the champion yodeler
of the Colorado Rockies. I have a good healthy
pair of lungs even if I never was acclaimed prize
hog-caller of Kansas. But even our powerful
equipment would not have sent our voices from
one end of the big sound stage to the other, because,
at the moment, both of us were practically breath-
less. But just the same, we carried on a conver-
sation ... a long fluent conversation that ended
in an invitation to lunch.

Bystanders gathered around, thinking we were
reviving the once popular game of "handies." They
wanted to join in, but they couldn't keep up. They
didn't have our system.

Lon Chaney, Jr.'s grandparents were deaf-mutes.
So are my parents. So it was fun for both of us
when we discovered that we could revert to the
"language" of our childhood.

We had a wonderful time. Of course, there were
one or two persons who said things about us, think-
ing we couldn't hear. But that's nothing to what

Chaney says, "I learned
sign-language from my
grandfather." Miss
Flake says, "Really?"

Chaney complains
sadly that he is hungry.
Miss Flake is using the
sign for, "Let's eat!"

we said about them knowing they couldn't
understand.

After a few moments, Lon silently said he

was hungry. So off to the commissary we

went, gaily signalling our opinions concerning

\ - the weather and other customary trivia.

] 1 As we started to order food, Lon forgot him-

"~ self and used the signs to order a steak from

Jules, who sees that the food is just what you

want. Jules, however, was quite undaunted.

He laughed and said, "Well, we have a sign in French,

too. It means 'exact' or 'exquisite' or 'just so.' " Strangely

enough the sign he used is one for "France" or "French"

in the language that Lon and I were speaking with our

hands.

"It's been fifteen years since I've used these signs to
any extent," Lon explained as Jules went on his way.
"When father went out on tour or on a long location
trip, he'd send me back to Colorado Springs to visit
Grandmother and Grandfather Chaney.

"I loved to ride the street-cars, so Grandfather would
let me ride down to work with him every morning. It
was on those rides that I learned signs. Every trip, I'd
learn a few more.

"Grandfather was a barber in one of the best hotels
there. He used to shave the
most important men in town.
I guess they liked him par-
ticularly well because he didn't
talk their heads off. I remem-
ber one time though he nearly
cut a fellow's head off. He was

Lon Chaney, Jr. remarks
that it is a beautiful day to
Kolma Flake who is saying
on her hands "I'm hungry"

HOLLYWOOD

shaving the fellow's throat just as the
fire-engines went racing by. Not realiz-
ing Grandfather couldn't hear the din,
the man jumped up to see the engines.
If Grandfather's other senses hadn't been
wonderfully quick the man might have
had much worse than a good-sized cut.

"I learned to dance at the deaf-mute
club in Colorado Springs. We certainly
had some good times there. Everybody
seemed so happy — dancing to the vibra-
tion of the drums instead of to the sound.

"And the jokes they used to tell! Most
of them were quite simple and childish
when you put them into words. But in
the sign language, they were very funny.

"Whenever I think of my grandfather,
I see him outdoing that grand old actor,
Theodore Roberts, in handling a cigar . . .
you know, twirling it slowly and with
great finesse. Granddad could make a
cigar last longer than anyone I've ever

character. But that Lon Chaney, Jr.,
made him a sympathetic one. Lon Chaney,
Sr., did the same in his portrayal of The
Hunchback of Notre Dame," and his son
is firm in his belief that their familiarity
with the sign language had much to do
with success of both portrayals.

Charlie Chaplin, too, is proficient in the
use of the sign language. Many know the
story of his great affection for his late
friend, Granville Redmond, noted deaf-
mute artist. For fifteen years (until his
death three years ago), Redmond had his
studio on the Chaplin lot. And many
were the hours the actor and the deaf
artist spent together, talking in Redmond's
language.

For nine years, Lon Chaney, Jr., has
had this innate ability tested time and
again, but not until he was given the part
of Lennie was his acting talent given real
recognition.

failed to win big roles. Then again came
free-lance minor parts and "bits."

A few months ago, I talked to a pro-
ducer who said to me, "Now take Lon
Chaney, Jr., who is trying to follow in
his father's footsteps. Until his father's
death, he was preparing to be an engineer.
It's too bad he didn't continue. He just
doesn't have his father's talent and the
public won't accept anything less from
him."

Lon Chaney, Jr., though, had something
more than the desire to emulate his
father. He had great patience and great
faith. His grandparents could have told
him much about the value of those two
traits. They were of a group of 120,000
men and women who had made for them-
selves what a misunderstanding world
had refused them . . . their own insurance
company to provide the security which
regular [Continued on page 56]

iney says, "I want a
s juicy steak." Jules is
ing that he under-
nds while Eleanor
?jr studies the menu

iney upsets his dessert
! makes a gesture of
bing out, indicating,
n sorry." Miss Riley is
ing "You're clumsy!"

Chaney says, "Why don't
you have some reindeer?"
Miss Riley catches on
quickly, and says that she
prefers to have rabbit

Chaney says, "Oh, please
do!" Miss Riley uses a
snapping motion of
thumb against her fingers
meaning "Certainly not!"

Chaney is saying, "I'll be
mad! " Miss Riley brushes
her finger along her nose
and away, which means
clearly, "I don't care!"

Chaney says, "I have to
go home." Miss Riley
says, "I have to work."
She has a part in Turn-
about now being filmed

Miss Riley says, "Let's be
sweethearts ! " Lon Chaney
answers, "But I am mar-
ried ! " but they threw
kisses at parting, anyway

known. He was a wonderful old man."
Young Lon agreed with me that a thor-
ough knowledge of his grandparents' cus-
tomary means of communication was of
invaluable aid in creating the character
of Lennie in Of Mice and Men, the cave-
man in 1,000,000 B. C.

Critics, in speaking of Lon Chaney, Jr.'s,
performances, say that he gave the role
of Lennie much more than just fine act-
ing . . . that the great, hulking moronic
creature might have become a repulsive

JULY, 1940

Those were nine heart-breaking years.
His father died in 1930. The following
year, RKO Studios offered him a contract.
Up until that time, he had been preparing
himself to be an engineer. He won critics'
praises for a feature role in Virgie Winters
which starred Ann Harding. But from
that time on, he was almost entirely over-
looked by critics.

Then came minor roles and "bit" parts.
Then a contract with 20th Century-Fox
for a number of pictures in which he

Ue kia m

I With all due respect to our innate
sense of modesty, and without
recourse to more than the three-mile
limit of boasting, we feel that we
deserve nothing less than an Academy
Award "Oscar" this month for an
achievement that borders on the im-
possible!

Without coaching or teaching of
any kind whatsoever we have learned
to "Speak Curtiz" in five difficult les-
sons!

And to prove that we're not talking
through our battered beret, we can
produce a dozen affadavits, all signed
and sworn to as proof of the veracity of
the above statement.

What makes this accomplishment the
more startling to us, and to all of Holly-
wood, is the fact that we know actors and
actresses who have been on the Warner
Brothers lot for more than five years and

Michael Curl iz* blithe disre-
gard fur l he rules of English
grammar is one reason he is
fast becoming one of the
most quoted men in town

By ELMER SUIVFIELD

nary a one of them can UNDERSTAND
"Curtiz," much less speak it.

Now for a definition of the term.

To "Speak Curtiz" is a contraction of
"to speak like Michael Curtiz," the famous
Warner Brothers director who can, by a
simple twist of his tongue, assassinate,

lacerate and completely mutilate the
English language as it never has been
assassinated, lacerated and mutilated
before.

Talented actors and actresses, as-
signed for the first time to a Curtiz -
directed picture, have been known to
become raving maniacs and to plead
piteously for their padded cells as a
result of their futile and frantic ef-
forts to interpret the director's in-
credibly weird instructions.

Long before the first day's shooting
is over, they'll swear on a stack of
scripts that Curtiz, himself, can't
understand what he's talking about —
which is the height of something or other
since Curtiz, despite his be- jammed and
be -jumbled gibberish, is a smart cookie
inside and outside a sound stage.

Undoubtedly chaos would reign su-
preme on a [Continued on page 49]

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A Ghost Story

Onr favorite extra explores the
ghostly goings-on in Earthbountl
anil, though uiieoiiiforlnbly hruise«l,
deeides that he will keep his body

"»

•/

Dear Editor:

Maybe you remember, when I sent in
my last masterpiece of bum writing on
20 Mule Team, that I said I'd never again
accept any extra work in pictures that
had location sequences laid in or around
the desert country. Well, this resolve goes
double from now on. The wear and tear
on my nerves, health, and general dis-
position is just too much. And what's
more, I'm not only NOT going to get my-
self a hot foot on the Mohave, but I'm
NOT going to play in any picture that
has a ghost for one of the leading roles!

The reason for this is that I received a
four-day pay slip four days ago for what
Director Irving Pichel somewhat laugh-
ingly called an "extra-fine" performance
in the 20th Century-Fox production,
Earihbound, and my hands are still shak-
ing so hard I'm unable to endorse the
check!

Lissen!

I'll defy any up-standing robot to go
through the weird experiences I've had in
this picture and remain cool, calm, and
collected!

If one of those mechanical babies can
mess around four days with a ghost with-
out shaking of? a [Continued on page 57]

Henry Wilcoxoii discovers the body of his
friend (Warner Baxter) while the be-
wildered ghost (also Warner Baxter)
adjusts himself to his new strange life

«w

Lynn Bari plays the impulsive sweetheart
who fired the fatal shot. Here the ghost
tries to make himself heard in the court

TEARS IN LOWER SEVEN!

Mile after mile, that train hummed along— and you'd think
my heart would be singing, too ! Off for a week end at the Acad-
emy and yet I was sunk ! Why, oh why, would this super-swell
invitation come at a time like this! I curled up on my berth
and cried !

And that's When Judy popped through the curtains. "Oh, you
ninny," she laughed, "what if it is the wrong time of the month?
It's plain old-fashioned to let chafing get you down nowadays.
Bring your box of napkins into the dressing room while I fetch
my kind and I'll show you a thing or two!"

And tWO minutes later, Judy was cutting up one of my nap-
kins and then she cut a Modess pad. "There— just feel the
difference!" she cried. "Modess is softer because it's made of
fluff, instead of papery folds. And Modess stays softer, darling,
because it now has 'moisture zoning'." Well . . .

I borrowed Judy's Modess and what a glorious week end! I
danced, I played tennis, I went sailing — so comfortable and
carefree — I practically forgot the time of the month. Take it
from me, now that I know what a difference,/?^ makes, I don't
wonder Modess is winning more new users than any other napkin!

Cut a napkin made of papery-
folds — then cut a Modess
pad — and feel the difference !
No close-packed layers in
Modess— but gentle, downy-
soft fluff! So absorbent, this
fluff is a miracle of protec-
tion. So soft, it's a miracle of
comfort ! And that isn't all . . .

Modess is made of fluff

instead of papery folds

Press that fluff and notice
how it yields. That's why
Modess moulds to the body
so comfortably without bulk
or bunching— why it stays
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' CM.

r~r

Above and left, Bette Davis who plays the heroine in All
This, and Heaven Too, with Virginia Weidler. Right, Charles Boyer
as the tempestuous Duke and Barbara O'Neil who is seen as his ill-fated wife

Tale of a Turbulent Triangle

m "Tonight," Mr. Charles Boyer exulted,
a mischievous gleam lighting his nor-
mally slumberous eyes, "tonight is the
night. Tonight I murder the duchess. To-
night I give her the beezness."

Mr. Boyer was referring to an incident
in the eventful home life of Theobald,
Duke of Praslin, who resided, toward the
middle of the Nineteenth Century, at No.
55 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, in
the wonderful city of Paris. On the even-
ing to which Mr. Boyer looked forward
with so much relish Theobald, for reasons
that seemed compelling at the time,
slugged, cuffed and battered the life out
of his ncble Corsican wife, the mother of
his ten children.

But the horrors did not cease there, as
Mr. Boyer was only too happy to point out.

"Then I go to prison," he continued
gaily, "and then I take strychnine and
die and am buried in an unmarked grave
in the prison yard. What a life! What a
death!"

"What a picture!" an interested by-
stander might remark at this point.

By DUNCAN UNDERBILL

Mr. Boyer's outburst of drollery was
incidental to the making of a movie called
All This, and Heaven Too, which deals
with frustrated love, murder, the Atlantic
Cable and related subjects.

These matters are all interwoven with
the career of a certain Mile. Henriette
Desportes, who served the first half of
her adulthood as a governess, latterly in
the employ of the Duke and Duchess of
Praslin, and the last half as the wife of a
New York clergyman whose brother laid
the Atlantic Cable.

The job of filming Henriette's turbulent
life, as told in Rachel Field's best-selling
novel, was a matter of compromise and
condensation. No fictional character, but
as vivid a human being as ever drew the
breath of two republics, Mile. Desportes
lived twenty-six years of the Nineteenth
Century in the United States. In the film
this is cut down to a good sensible

fifteen minutes of screen running time.

Some other notable corner-cuttings in
the film are these:

In actuality, Theobald, the Duke of
Praslin, was the progenitor of nine bounc-
ing babies and one not so sprightly. The
screenplay cuts this down to four, a fair
enough numerical slash, since the ones re-
tained in the story are Louise (Virginia
Weidler), Raynald (Richard Nichols),
Isabelle (June Lockhart), and Berthe
(Ann Todd).

The illustrious American Field family,
numbering eight sons and a daughter in
the family album, is reduced by the Holly-
wood census-takers to four, of whom one
appears on the screen and three as con-
versational props only.

Three of the greatest actors of all time,
Rachel of the Comedie Francaise; Fanny
Kemble and Edwin Booth, don't even ap-
pear in the movie, although each was
given a jewel-box mounting in the book
about Henriette Desportes on which the
picture is based.

All this trim- [Continued on page 64]

•^^'

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Don't Be a Droop

You'll never get by in the
town of Holly wood unless
you know how to control
those moods. Here is how
some of the stars snap out of
it when they are gloomy

By HELEN LOUISE WALKER

■ One of the appalling things about
Hollywood, if you happen to be a lazy,
sedentary soul (like me) is the verve, the
pep, the sheer animation of practically
everyone concerned with the making of
pictures. They can't sit still. They leap.
They shout. They effervesce, like soda-
mint tablets dropped in lemon juice. No
one ever tells a story. He skips about and
shows you what happened, to the point of
turning handsprings and planting his feet
in your face. People don't walk. They
bound, or, worse still, hop aboard motor-
scooters and hurtle, with horrid buzzing
noises, from dressing room to the set, or
even to the drug store.

They go to the mountains "to relax" and
come home on stretchers from an overdose
of skiing or from just falling off something.
They drop in for a cocktail, pace, wave
their hands, declaim, poke the fire and
sometimes move all the furniture. Why, I
entertained an actor only a few weeks ago
who suddenly decided to put in a lot of
new electric wall plugs for me, whether
I wanted them or not — just high spirits.

This is all very stimulating for the by-
stander, if he stands far enough by and
isn't trampled. But for the picture folk,
especially the actors, the maintaining of
this energetic excess is a grim business.
This verve, this pfuff, this whateveritis,
is supposed to be the very stuff which
packs 'em in at the box office. They can't
just eat, drink and be merry, you under-
stand. Most of them have to try to ema-
nate all this zing while the body is prac-
tically starving to death for the lack of
food. They think up the darndest things!

Barbara Stanwyck is no starveling,
goodness knows, living as she does prac-
tically on raw beefsteak and an occasional
carrot. But she has to get that old mental
lift once in a while, same as anyone else.
So she hops in her car, with the top down,
and heads for an open road. It has to be a
straight road, she stipulates. No silly old
curves or scenery to take her attention.
Then she just drives and drives until sud-
denly she realizes that she is all right
again, and she can go home. Only — it
usually turns out that it is a long way from
home, and sometimes Barbara's straight
road has fooled her and she finds that she
is lost and out of gas. So she has to tele-
phone someone, and by the time she does
get home she is completely exhausted. So
is Bob, who has been fretting about her.

fct

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So are all of the people who have partici-
pated in the rescue. Despite these minor
drawbacks, Barbara says these gallivant-
ings do her a world of good when she feels
a mood coming on.

Loretta Young — the lovely, fragile
Loretta — goes to the hospital and watches
operations when she feels a little low! She
prefers the complicated, major variety.
Loretta always fancied that she might have
made a competent nurse or even a doc-
tor. A couple of picture roles have whetted
this notion. She says she gets a feeling
of the flow of life, the power — Gee, I'm not
sure I'm getting this exactly right. Any-
how, it does something pretty cosmic to
Loretta when she puts on a surgical frock
and mask, and watches a bit of bone chis-
eling or tissue snipping. She feels fine
and ready for anything.

Their notions about what gives them a
lift are so varied that you may become a
trifle confused, contemplating them. Still
and all, maybe if you sort them out, sift
a bit and try a few you'll find something
which, if it doesn't make you feel better,
at least will make you feel different.

| When Ann Sothern feels the old leth-
argy coming on, she does two things.
First she goes on a diet of cucumber juice
for a day or two. That's what I said.
CUCUMBER juice. After this drastic
measure she gives a party. A special kind
of party which she calls "a new blooder."
This means that she invites people she has
just met or knows only slightly.

"Nothing," says Ann, firmly, "is as stim-
ulating as getting new blood into your
circle of friends. It does something for
you."

It does something to the party, too, since
Ann mixes her groups with the gayest dis-
regard for similarity of tastes, ages, mental
attitudes or views on politics.

Sometimes they retire into frigid silence
and spend the evening eying one another
with suspicion. Sometimes beautiful
friendships spring up. Sometimes Ann
finds that she has brought mortal enemies
together under her roof . . . who may at
any moment retire to the patio to have it
out. It's all one to her.

"I like to watch 'em," she avers, stoutly.
"No matter what happens, I feel fine the
next day."

Since that was what she was after in
the first place, one supposes that it must
be all right.

They aren't all quite so elaborate in their
efforts to give themselves mental jogs.
Dolores Del Rio finds that it does wonders
for her if she can find a high board fence
and walk up and down on top of it. She
says this gives her bodily poise and bal-
ance and mental exhilaration. Of course,
there was that one unfortunate time when
she toppled and acquired an inconvenient
splinter . . . But none of the systems
always work perfectly.

■ Penny Singleton has a sulking room,
no less! It's a room over the garage,
empty save for a chair and a table. (Not a
very comfortable chair.) When she is feel-
ing, as she puts it, "not fit to speak to,"
she retires to this nook and broods to her
heart's content. Does her a world of good.

She emerges, after an hour or so, does a
couple of backflips which she has left over
from her days of acrobatic dancing on the
stage — and there she is, bright as a button.

■ Mrs. Pat O'Brien says that she knows
what to expect when Pat gets an
abused look in his eye and begins to hum
Pagliacci. He is feeling low in his mind.
The next thing she knows he is out in the
garden, pruning things and grafting things.
He does this despite anything she or the
gardener can say in defense of the help-
less growing things. He prunes and grafts
peach twigs on fig trees, and, for all I
know, attaches blackberry branches to the
sweet corn. Nothing ever comes of these
horticultural antics, but Pat gets a terrific
boot out of it all. Feels close to the soil, and
convinced that he is creating something
wonderful. He never sings Pagliacci at
any other time.

II Humphrey Bogart is even worse.
When he gets a gloomy streak, his wife
(Mayo Methot) immediately begins to
hide things like electric toasters, alarm
clocks and egg beaters. Because Bogie is
a cinch to take something apart and try to
reassemble it before the black mood
passes. Once, when things were going par-
ticularly badly for him, Mayo actually had
the grand piano hauled off to the music
shop for alleged "repairs" just because she
saw him gazing at it with "That Look" in
his eye.

| I think Vic McLaglen has more fun
getting out of black moods than any-
body. He heckles his agent. This is log-
ical and sensible and I agree that agents
should be heckled once in a while. Only
a couple of weeks ago Vic went to his
agent's office and announced that he was
going to New York for a few weeks. Leav-
ing that very evening.

"But, Vic, you can't," cried the frantic
agent. "I've two — maybe three — impor-
tant deals pending for you. You've got to
be here."

Vic was sorry but firm. He had to get
away. It was just the way he felt about
it . . .

People argued, expostulated, wailed and
did some other things until Vic sighed,
assumed a hurt and martyred expression.
"All right, boys. You win," he said, wear-
ily. "I'll stay."

He hadn't had the faintest notion of
leaving town. "I just felt low," he ex-
plained afterward. "It did me a lot of good
to hav^e 'em tell me that Hollywood and
a couple of producers just couldn't get
along without me. Got a big lift out of
that. I'll give a swell performance in my
next picture . . . You see!"

B Madame Maria Ouspenskaya walks on
her hands. At her age! She doesn't
wait until she feels she needs a lift be-
fore she does it. She just does it so that
she won't need a lift. She says it gives
you a whole new point of view and recom-
mends it to old and young. "Much better
than that silly spinach juice," she says.

■ Jeanette MacDonald and Gene Ray-
mond have a little sound-proof house
in their grounds and they repair to this

when they feel the urge to give vent to
pent-up emotions by making what they
call "strange noises." They have two
pianos there and they play duets, sing
oddly assorted songs at the top of their
lungs, experiment with instruments on
which neither is at all proficient and have
a really rip-roaring jam session all their
own. They're dreadfully exhausted after
one of these musical orgies. But they in-
sist that it does them more good than any
workout in a gym could possibly do. More
fun, too.

B And I do hope that Bill Powell's new
little bride has at least a tolerant feel-
ing for Ravel's Bolero. Because for years
Bill, especially when preparing for a diffi-
cult scene in a picture, has made it a habit
to sit down for an hour or two and just
play the recording of Bolero over and over
and over until, as he puts it, "I'm soggy
with rhythm." I don't think that Bill has
a sound-proof building where he can in-
dulge this little fancy. I do hope she
likes it!

H Poor Clark Gable is a study in frus-
tration in his off moments. He had
his contract readjusted a year or so ago
so that he might have at least three months
a year free to travel and refresh his soul.
The war blasted most of these plans and
Carole's screen commitments blasted the
others. So Clark takes it out these days
in peering wistfully at maps which change
almost daily and sticking pins in the places
where he wishes he could go. Even that,
he sighs, is better than nothing!

■ Henry Fonda spends a night in a
sordid fifty-cent hotel in Los Angeles'
seamier district whenever he feels bored
or discontented, and feels just swell after-
ward. Don't ask me to explain this. Henry
can't. It just gives him a new outlook or
something. The dainty, shell pink Anita
Louise drinks a lot of raw beef juice and
is ready for anything. Simply anything.
Constance Bennett spends an hour in a
smelly chemical laboratory and emerges
in the mood for a party. Warren William
dons dungarees, goes to the water front
and hobnobs with sailors. Makes him feel
wonderful for a week.

So — if you've wondered how they con-
trived to have all this pfuff or zing or
whateveritis — here are a few of the
recipes. Want to try any of them?

The utterly craiy rumor that Nelson Eddy
is going blind still persists, despite vehement
denials by the singer. The rumor started in
Alabama, and since then has spread over
the entire country. It all came about be-
cause, during his concert tours, Eddy always
carries a small notebook which he uses more
to have something to do with his hands than
to prime his memory on songs. The pages
are worn down to a tissue thinness from the
pressure of his fingers during difficult num-
bers. Rumors began to pop up about this
habit. The book was Braille and he read it
with his fingers, so report had it. It was
even said that he was led by his manager to
the center of the stage behind closed cur-
tains and that he sang from this spot when
the curtains unfolded. All this, take it from
Eddy himself, is so much poppycock. His
eyes are in the best of health, thank you.
And that, coming from him, ought to put an
end to some of the rumors at least.

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This is a slightly exaggerated word
picture of the demands the picture
business makes on all of the people in it

By BETH B II O IV X

■ Oh, so you've got a girl? Sorry,
Buddy, but you'll have to give her up.
This is Hollywood, you know, and Holly-
wood has no time for love.

Oh, so you've got a date? Sorry, Sister,
but you'll have to call it off. Better tell
your boy-friend you're working tonight.

Work comes first. That's the rule in
Hollywood — and there are no exceptions.
It goes for the extra girl and it goes for
Garbo, too. No, it doesn't matter if you're
Clark Gable. You'll just have to wait
till the picture is finished before you can
marry your Carole Lombard. And you
can't go off on that honeymoon till your
studio says that you can. If you're in
love — stay out of Hollywood! Love has
its place — on the screen. It has no place —
in your life.

Every girl in the picture business sooner
or later learns that it's no use inviting her
beau to a nice, home-cooked dinner that
she makes with her own lily-white hands.
Every guy sooner or later learns that it's
no use surprising his girl by buying two
tickets for the big concert in the Holly-
wood bowl. Stenos and script girls — bus
boys and prop boys — extras and stars —
one and all soon learn that their lives are
not their own. At next to the last minute
the telephone is sure to ring with the in-
evitable: "Sorry, Honey, can't make it to-
night. Gotta work!"

And there's nothing for you to do but
tear up the tickets, chuck out the dinner,

have a good cry, and say when he calls
again: "It's O.K. for next Wednesday
night, Honey!" But you know darn well
that ten to one, he'll call up on Wednesday
to call it off again.

That's the picture business for you — a
twenty-four hour job — three hundred and
sixty-five days a year — yes, and nights,
too! That's what makes you hate it and
love it all at once.

Other people — all over the world — are
holding down jobs too, and at the end of
the day, when the clocks strike and the
whistles blow, you put away your tools,
wash up, and start for home. You have
your supper and you pick up your best
girl and you go to the movies.

And when the show lets out, maybe you
walk home in the moonlight. And the
man in the moon looks down and says:
"Ain't love grand!" And you look up and
say: "Gosh! I wish I were in Hollywood!
It must be a wonderful place!" And if
you're the girl, you see yourself walking
up Hollywood Boulevard with Robert
Taylor. And if you're the boy, you see
yourself swimming in Joan Crawford's
aquamarine pool.

But right here is where you both ought
to stop and thank your lucky stars that
you have a love and your love has you,
and that when six o'clock comes around,
you belong to each other. You couldn't
do that in Hollywood. Nope! not even if
you were Barbara Stanwyck married to

Mister Taylor. You're lucky. Barbara
and Bob don't have a peaceful evening
to themselves for weeks at a time. If
it isn't work for one, it's work for the
other.

And it's no use protesting, for you don't
say "No" in the picture business, and so
Barbara says "Yes." They all say yes —
all the way down the line.

You call up your girl and you call it off.
First you call off your date. Then you
call off being in love. And finally you call
off even being married. It's not — all you
critics out there — that these people stop
loving each other. It's just that the pic-
ture business hasn't time for love — except
on the screen.

Oh, you six o'clock whistles up in 'Frisco
and down in New Orleans! We Holly-
wood whistles don't say so, but we envy
you. Sure, at six o'clock our cameras
stop grinding, true, but don't let that fool
you. Work on the lot has just begun.

What's wrong with Hollywood?

Come along, Little Girl, and we'll show
you. And you, too, Big Boy. Sure thing.
You can drive right in. But remember
this: park your love outside.

Here's the gate at Metro in Culver City.
Sure we know the night watchman. He'll
let you in.

The night watchman is the first guy we
meet who works after hours. And some-
where, in a little house hugging a hill-
side, is his wife spending the evening
alone, knitting, maybe, or doing the dishes,
or going to a movie that in his small way,
her husband helped to make.

But why shed those crocodile tears?
You're right. His job is not any different
from that of night watchmen all over the
world. The same goes for those cops who
are waving a greeting at you with their
night sticks. Sure there's got to be law
and order even after hours — there are
cops on duty everywhere — all the time.
O.K. Big Boy. We're not arguing that
point or any other. We're just showing
you around a lot after hours. It's not
done very often, you know.

Nice place, isn't it? Quiet, too. De-
serted as a cemetery under the stars. Only,
Sister, those aren't stars. Those are kliegs
lighting an old-fashioned, cobble-stoned
street. For a minute you'd think you were
back in the dark ages, wouldn't you? Hear
that shouting?

"The King! Here comes the King!"

Take it easy, Sister! Watch out for
those high-heeled shoes of yours. You'll
see the King in just a minute. There he
is! That's him! Where? Why, right
there! Too bad he's wearing a felt hat
and a business suit, but that's the King
all right — I mean — he's an actor. Sorry
he's not all dressed up in his armor, but
that stuff's heavy enough to lug around
all through the day.

Who are those three men with him?
They're sound men, Big Boy, recording the
sound track. From the looks of things
they'll be here half the night playing back
the sound. Of course they've been work-
! ing all day. What do you think this is—
Playland?

Come along now. Sister wants to know
what that row of men are doing over there

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sitting on those benches. This is the
camera machine shop, Honey. Every
single night, every single camera used
during the day is checked over and
cleaned. There's not a minute to do it in
all day long so it's got to be done at night.
And if any one of those boys fails to clean
one speck of dust in the delicate mech-
anism, it's just too bad, for it may mean
the ruin of an entire day's filming.

How long will these boys be here? Oh,
there's no telling. Have they got wives
at home? What do you think? Of course
they go on early in the morning. Oh, so
you wouldn't like that sort of a job, would
you, Big Boy? Well, we don't exactly
blame you. No, you don't have much time
to spend at home with your family.

Maybe you'd like to work in the make-
up department? Here, let me give you a
knockdown to Mr. Dawn. Hey, Jack! I
want you to meet a couple of friends of
mine from the East. Yes, she's a looker.
And he's not bad either. What are you
and the gang doing here so late?

Hear what he says? There's going to
be a lot of bloodshed tomorrow so they're
getting up those five gallon jars of red
collodion. These fish skin squares are
for the wounded soldiers. Work starts at
eight in the morning, and no one can go
home for the night until it's all prepared —
every bit of make-up for both star and
extra.

■ Hail, hail, the gang's all here! That
goes for the wig department, too.
What are all the folk doing? Why, they're
combing out the knots and dust and burrs.
These wigs you see, were used during the
day and must be ready again to be used
tomorrow morning.

Come on, Sister, take off that wig. We're
going down the street to the costume de-
partment. How would you like to meet
Adrian? And this is Dolly Tree.

Why, of course, the big shots work along
with the help. You bet they do, don't
they, Miss Tree? What's that you say?
Oh, so the maid is the only one in your
family who ever gets a night off? That's
a good one! Well, with production going
full blast, it's no wonder you're so busy.

Yes, of course, we'd love to have you
show us through the work room.

What are they doing?

Why, they're repairing the tears in all
the clothes and closing up opened seams.
They're also sorting the costumes that
must be handed out in perfect order, mind
you, tomorrow morning at eight o'clock
exactly. And what costumes!

Here are a hundred billowy dresses for
the costume picture that's now in produc-
tion. And here are the scanty little things
that belong to Hedy Lamarr. Over there
are the dummies. Here's one that's made
to the exact proportions of Garbo so she
doesn't have to spend weary hours of
fitting. This row of sewing women are-
doing bead - work exclusively — sewing
millions of beads upon six-dollar-a-yard
satin. Nothing but the best goes into the
clothes that go into the movies.

Come away now. We're headed for the
cutting rooms.

Why do they have cement floors here?
Fire-proofing, dearie. And over there are

the vaults that hold the precious films, all
stored away in shiny, tin cans. What are
all these cutters doing? They're hard at
work, Big Boy, cutting and splicing the
day's take. These are what you call
spools — Big Boy, and these are the re-
winds. You see, you patch the film and
wind it on the reel. You don't like the
odor? Well, that's film cement you're
smelling, and for your information, the
cutters just love it. It's as sweet to them
as is the odor of tanbark to the circus
performer.

Look out for that pail of water! No,
that's not a character actress. That's a
lady janitor. Yes, I know that janitors
work at night in schools and halls and
other such public places. But you don't
have to shout at me, do you? That's right.
See the Silence sign? This is Writers Row.
Never saw so many lighted windows, did
you? Nor heard so many typewriters
going all at once?

Of course the writers check in like
everyone else. The only time they check
out is when the studio checks them out.
Some of them punch the keys themselves
and some of them dictate to their secre-
taries. Of course the secretaries work
overtime when a quick rewrite is needed.

■ How about the directors and the pro-
ducers?
Don't worry, Sister, they're on the lot!
Yep, here's Hunt Stromberg. Let's sneak
up and see what he and his gang are doing
with that miniature set. Sure they came
to work at seven this morning but they're
still on the job struggling with the un-
glorified details of production. You see
they're mapping out the camera positions
for tomorrow, checking over the details
of wardrobe and cast, itemizing properties,
laying out the scenes.

| How about the actors, you ask?

Don't worry. They're around some-
where. They may be working on the set
or in the projection room watching the
daily rushes on the screen. Or they may
be at home — studying their lines for to-
morrow.

Here we are — here's the projection room
now. Here's a director and a producer
and their entire staffs. They're all on hand
sitting in judgment on the finished picture
so that when you see it, it will be as perfect
as they can possibly make it.

No, Honey, the picture business is not
an easy business and you can't exactly
blame it for being hand on love. There
are always features in production — either
before the camera or in the cutting, room,
and they've got to be finished in time to
meet the season's program with no time
out for walks in the moonlight or love and
kisses or stuff and nonsense of that sort.

Oh, so you had no idea it was anything
like this? Sure thing, Sister. I'll take
you down to the train.

Why, Big Boy! I'm surprised at you.
So you're going with her — are you? Well,
I don't blame you one bit. There's noth-
ing like knocking off at six o'clock of an
afternoon and eloping with the girl of
your heart. But — take my advice — if
you're in love — get out and stay out of
Hollywood!

this cream to check perspiration locally
for at least a day, in some cases, for longer.
Don't think that it is harmful — the per-
spiration is merely rerouted to other areas
where the glands are less thickly clus-
tered, and where it can evaporate freely,
without odor. This particular cream has
recently been brought out in a stream-
lined, shocking pink and white container,
smart for your dressing table or bathroom
shelf. It costs thirty-five cents for the
regular size, and you'll find a small jar at
dime store counters. Do write for the name
of this summer daintiness aid.

■ Nothing, no nothing , detracts more
from your feminine appeal and charm

than a heavy growth of hair on your legs
or arms. And summertime is just when
it seems to be heaviest. That's partly be-
cause the sun rays stimulate the hair cells
to greater activity, and partly because
you're going about bare-legged more, and
are therefore more conscious of the
problem. The sensible thing to do about
superfluous hair is simply — remove it!
Please don't ask me for any permanent
cures — the only one is electrolysis, and
that's expensive, and in some cases,
dangerous. No, I strongly advise you to
use a reliable depilatory, and use it as
frequently as you find necessary in your
particular case. I'll be glad to give you
the name of a fine cream that has been
greatly improved lately. It's pure white,
smooth as cold cream, and it produces
quick results. Best of all, it is much
freer from offensive sulphide odors than
before — I don't know just how the manu-
facturer accomplished that change, but he
definitely has! Be sure to follow the
directions to the letter when you use this
(or any other) depilatory.

■ Have you ever used a liquid powder?
You've got a treat coming to you!

Because it gives your skin a smooth, vel-
vety finish. You can use powder lotion
as a make-up foundation, or alone for its
own flattery. The particular one I've
been using lately is grand for summer
make-up because its light film is all you
need — except, perhaps, for a slight touch
of rouge. It comes in eight skin harmoniz-
ing shades— the newest, Indian Summer,
is designed to give the effect of a glowing,
pinkish tan. Pour a small amount of the
lotion into the palm of your hand, then
dot it over your face, and blend evenly
with the fingertips. The smooth finish it
gives is long-lasting, and does not seem
to be affected by perspiration, wind or
sun. Blend it over your arms and legs.
too, for the all-over suntanned look. A
little of the lotion goes such a long way!
I'll be glad to tell you how to get a sample
bottle (one-half ounce) for a quarter —
and there are larger sizes at a dollar.

Write me before July 15th, please, if
you would like the names of any of the
products mentioned in this article. Be
sure to enclose a stamped ("J. S. Post-
age), self-addressed envelope for my re-
ply, and send your letter to Ann Vernon,
Beauty Editor, HOLLYWOOD Maga-
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MANY NEVER
SUSPECT CAUSE
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This Old Treatment Often
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Many sufferers relieve nagging backache quickly,
once they discover that the real cause of their trouble
may be tired kidneys.

The kidneys are Nature's chief way of taking the
excess acids and waste out of the blood. They help
most people pass about 3 pints a day.

When disorder of kidney function permits poison-
ous matter to remain in your blood, it may cause nag-
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and energy, getting up nights, swelling, puffiness
under the eyes, headaches and dizziness. Frequent or
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kidneys or bladder.

Getting tall is Shirley. Here she is shown with Jack Oakie and Charlotte Greenwood
in a scene from Young People. Oakie also is in Charlie Chaplin's The Dictator in
which he plays one Benzino Gasolirfi, and sticks his chin out like guess who?

The Boy Who Gets Everything He Wants

[Continued from page 21]

refugee because he spoke no English.
Mrs. Stack wirelessed her father in Los
Angeles to send on a copy of the' boy's
birth certificate. It arrived in New York
in the nick of time to prove that he was
a California native son. For months,
however, until he learned a little English,
he had to talk to his brother, Jim, through
an interpreter.

Despite the advantages (or disadvan-
tages) of being born with money, social
position and of being brought up in the
best glitter and glamour drawing rooms
of this country and Europe, Bob is a very
normal, fun-loving young man. His
school friends are still his best friends,
one of them being a mechanic, and Bob
wishes he could afford to pay him to stick
around "because he talks about some-
thing beside pictures."

| Bob considers wanting a thing "badly
enough" the important point. When
he couldn't wheedle his mother into buy-
ing something he wanted, he invariably
pitched in and got it the hard way. There
was his red racing car, for instance, that
he thought as necessary as life itself at
the age of eighteen. Certainly his mother
wouldn't buy him a racing car — what
mother would? — so, with the aid of his
mechanic friend, he built one.

Lack of funds delayed its progress. "I
was always out of money," he will tell
you. "All my allowance went for parts
but I was always waiting for next month's
allowance so I could buy more. Some-
times I asked mother for extra money for

a date, but my 'date' was with a crank
shaft or something for the motor."

Mrs. Stack's approval of this venture
was * gained by the explanation that it
would cost "next to nothing." "How was
I to know that before it was finished it
would cost four times as much as an or-
dinary car?" she asked later.

He raced it at Lake Muroc, where it
made a speed of 115 miles per hour "and
25 miles to the gallon of gas, too," he
boasts. Innocent of top or fenders, it
can't be used on social occasions — al-
though his girl friends consider it an
achievement to get a ride in it — but it
is his pride and joy. His secret sorrow
at the moment is that only top flight stars
and executives are allowed to drive onto
the M-G-M lot, where he is working, and
he must park his pet across the street.

The car has brought on other unhappy
moments, like the time he drove it to
New Mexico to attend an athletic event.
It may have been jealousy that reared its
ugly head and inspired some members of
the opposing team to loosen bolts in the
engine with the result that half way home,
in the middle of the desert, Bob dis-
covered the oil had all leaked out. Be-
neath a broiling hot sun he had to sit and 1
wait while his companion thumbed a ride j
to the nearest gas station for more fuel. I

( He likes speed in his motor cars, and '
it also appeals to him in music. Dur-
ing his high school years he played the
clarinet and saxophone and sang with his I
brother's orchestra. When their mother

planned a dancing party they offered to
furnish the music — for a price. With
many misgivings, Mrs. Stack consented
and it was really no mental strain on her
part for they made up her mind for her.

The evening came and went. The
guests departed at a late hour but the
orchestra played on. Nothing could stop
them for they were being paid by the
hour. At four o'clock there was a com-
motion at the front door. In the very
exclusive street where the Stacks live
were several police cars and on the steps
stood a squad of officers wanting to know
what the noise was about. Neighbors for
blocks around had complained they
couldn't sleep.

Later this same orchestra became a
local favorite and played at the smart
Town House for more than a year. Bob
disclaims any great talent as a singer,
however, although he is studying voice,
and says, "Jim has the voice. He really
can sing."

[ Equally modest over his other
achievements, Bob has to be coaxed
to show his trophies, so numerous they
overflow his own quarters and fill another
room. With the addition of a few knives
and forks he could set up light house-
keeping, he has such a generous supply
of silver and gold cups, plaques, bowls
and platters. Some of them he won for
swimming and polo but most of them
were earned for skeet shooting, at which

he held the Ail-American rating in 1936
and 1937. Also in 1937 he held the world's
record long-run championship for 364
straight hits. Last month he won the
all -bore skeet championship of the
Angeles Mesa Club annual tournament.
Some of his 50-odd guns were prizes.
Others were gifts and he loves them all.
He handles them tenderly and won't en-
trust their cleaning and oiling to anyone
else.

Recently his mother said to him,
"Bobbie, do you know that every time
you play polo it costs about $75? Is it
worth that much to you?"

"No!" he replied promptly and hasn't
played since, although he enjoys the
game and loves horses. Three times
during polo matches he broke the same
wrist, which no doubt influenced him to
give up the game. "I can't expect it to
keep on healing forever," he said.

■ Bob chose his career in a business-
like way. Two years of college con-
vinced him he didn't want any profession
that would keep him indoors. He decided
to try acting because he thought he would
like it, and because his athletic activities
had accustomed him to public appear-
ances. The easy way would have been
to go to his friends in the polo crowd —
actors like Spencer Tracy; producers like
Walter Wanger or Darryl Zanuck — or to
any one of a dozen influential men who
are his friends. That would have been

the simple way to get into pictures, but
Bob wanted to get into the theatre.

Without telling anyone outside his
family, he enrolled in the Duffy Dramatic
School. He worked hard and at the end
of six months he made his debut in
Personal Appearance. Talent scouts saw
him and the following day he had offers
of contracts from three major studios.
His stage plans were upset, but he
realized that if he didn't make good on
the screen he could always go back to
dramatic school. The studio offers might
not come again. He had the advantage of
being sought and his contract contains
many ifs and ands that do not appear in
the ordinary agreement between studio
and player. It may have been good for-
tune but certainly it wasn't drag that got
him the lead in First Love. Joseph
Pasternak, the producer who doesn't
make failures, was sure Bob was right
for that picture. The public thought so,
too.

■ Because he does everything thor-
oughly, he gave his all in his first
interview. He manufactured a past of
privations and hardships, and when it was
printed he locked the copy in his desk.
He had surprised even himself, and his
mother, when she saw the article, was
amazed. Insisting he was no "golden
boy," he said, "Everyone else has worked,
and it's no fun having people ask why I
don't give up and let some poor guy have

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TRUTH ABOUT CORNS

What Causes Them—
How to Get Rid of Them

A corn is a mass of dead cells packed into a hard
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my job. I need a job, too. I'm no play-
boy.

"I'd like to know who started the
rumor," he continued, "that I have eight
million dollars. I haven't eight or even
one million dollars. My father was worth
a lot of money prior to 1929, but so were
a lot of people who aren't now. Maybe
I could live comfortably on what I have,
but who wants to live comfortably?

"Do you think I would be acting if I
had a lot of money? Well, I wouldn't.
If I had enough money I might be a pro-
ducer— if I were in this business. I love
acting. I like it so much I don't mind
getting up at six in the morning and
finishing just in time to have my dinner,
go over my lines and fall into bed. No
parties when I have a studio call but that
is unimportant. It is important to be
doing your best at a job that you enjoy so
much that it is like having a hobby.

"But if I had so much money that I
didn't have to work, I would choose a
more stable profession than acting for the
screen. There is no future to it. There
are exceptions but an actor is lucky if
he can remain a star for five years. In
any other profession you would just begin
to know your job in that length of time.

"Things you have no control over de-
cide your fate in this business. An actor
gets a good part, does his best and maybe
the picture is a flop. Then where is he?
Working hard helps, of course, but it isn't
the deciding factor. The public is the
last judge.

"I know what it is to be hailed as a great
guy one day and not recognized the next.
In 1936 when I won the All-American
skeet shoot, people I never saw before
were telling me what a great guy I was.
Then I didn't win and no one paid any
attention to me. The next year I won

again, and again they were all running
after me. It's the same with pictures.
One day you're on top and the next thing
you know you're out and the people
you thought were your friends have
vanished."

■ He insists he isn't cynical, "just
sensible," and he thinks he is lucky
to have been given the opportunity to
appear in First Love. He thinks he is
playing in pretty fast company to be cast
in The Mortal Storm, for which M-G-M
borrowed him, with Margaret Sullavan,
James Stewart, Robert Young, Frank
Morgan and Irene Rich; and, at his own
studio, with Walter Pidgeon and Kay
Francis in When the Daltons Rode and
opposite Dietrich in Seven Sinners.

For twenty years the Stacks have lived
in a friendly, big, white house in the Wil-
shire district of Los Angeles. Bob's room
is enormous and would delight any young
chap. The furniture is heavy, hand-
carved oak and there are big, comfortable,
leather upholstered chairs. Near every
chair is an adjustable lamp and there are
books on the table — "Inside Europe," col-
lections of plays and short stories —
although Bob isn't one to curl up with a
book if there is dancing to be done.

Around the walls are cases for his guns
and some of his best trophies. On the
floor is a heavy bar for exercising and on
his desk a picture of Cobina Wright, Jr.

Until his fan mail jumped to an aver-
age of 250 letters a day, Bob answered it
himself. "It took half my salary to pay
for the pictures and postage," he ex-
plained, "so the studio has promised to
take care of it. I sent out large photo-
graphs as long as people were nice
enough to ask for them, not little things
the size, of a postcard."

BAUBRS
BLACK

BLUE-JAY

CORAL
PLASTERS

Because Clark Gable was hard at work in Boom Town, Carole Lombard came to the
studio on the first anniversary of their marriage and cut the festive cake there

A Day With Deanna

[Continued from page 22]

basis of her extraordinary popularity, not
only with young people, but with older
ones. And since millions of girls (and
boys) hang palpitant on each news item
about her, and millions of adults are
hardly less interested in what she does
and why, let's see how a day with Deanna
shapes up. Gleaned from herself and
from her mother, such information has
never been published in full detail be-
fore.

The little blue alarm clock gives a
gentle buzz. At six-thirty a. m. if
Deanna is working at the studio, at eight
if she isn't. Blue happens to be Deanna's
favorite color and her bedroom is a study
in tints of it, with sapphire drapes, pale
cerulean walls, and a larkspur spread on
the modern bed of walnut. For contrast,
the floor has a warm tan rug, deep and
soft.

Everything manifests good taste; no
ornateness. It's the room of a young girl
of artistic sensibility, not of a movie star ,
whose voice and personality earn an in-
come of several hundred thousand dol-
lars a year. You'd never know, from a
glimpse of that room or indeed from a
personal encounter, that Deanna was rich
and famous; which is possibly one of the
nicest things that can be said of her,
though it tosses a bouquet also to a couple
of wise parents.

The minute the alarm goes off, Deanna
flings out of bed — never the sort to waste
time — and scuds for the shower. First
lukewarm, then c-o-o-ld, and she doesn't
sing in it. The soap with which she liber-
ally be-suds herself has a very delicate
flower scent, usually lilac.

Wrapped now in a robe of white towel-
ing, en route to the little dressing room
off the bedroom, she casts a glance out the
window to greet the day. Her eyes skim
across the swimming pool, clear turquoise
in the early light, across a lawn with a
few great trees and scads of pink and
purple, flame and yellow flowers. The
Durbins have a fairly big house, solid and
comfortable without frills — the kind you
can actually live in. It stands on a hill
in Hollywood, not far from the homes
of DeMille and Menjou and W. C. Fields.

In the dressing room, Deanna plumps
down on the cream bench before the
cream table with its blue hangings. The
dressing room is small, but the dressing
table is pretty large. It has a fine triple
mirror. Along the outer edge of the side
mirrors there is a cute design of potted
plants. Deanna attacks her hair with a
brush and comb of white with her mono-
gram in gold, and — staring earnestly at
her reflection — plans a new hair-do.

Every couple of months she changes
her hair style, or oftener, except when

she's in a picture and has to keep the
same hairdress for the duration of pro-
duction. In fact, the occupation she likes
most of all right now is trying out new
hair effects.

Deanna thrusts a pin in here, fluffs a half
pompadour there, pulls a handful high,
with much craning and frowning into the
mirror panels. Probably she mows the
result down with a sweep of the brush,
but likely an idea has come which she
will try out later at the studio. For the
present, she ties a ribbon round her head
and sprays a snick of perfume down her
neck.

She likes perfume, particularly carna-
tion. On the dressing table are a dozen
cut glass, fantastic bottles of perfume and
toilet water and just one, faintly scented,
box of powder.

All this dallying before the mirror, Mrs.
Durbin will tell you, takes place merely
in order to postpone breakfast. "Eating
breakfast is the hardest thing I have to
do," Deanna says, "it's what I don't like
most. I hate breakfast, but Mother. . . ."

So Deanna leaps out of the towel-robe
and into dainty (but not elaborate)
underthings, generally blue; slips into a
simple dress; and with a sigh confronts
the breakfast table.

Tippy will be on hand to say good
morning. He will accept a mite of toast
if there's any, though he'd rather have
peanuts.

"Peanuts are what brought us to-
gether," Deanna explains, "I went to a

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pet shop to buy a dog and none of them
paid any attention to me except Tippy —
he wanted some of the peanuts I was
eating. I said right away, "That's the dog
for me.' The pet man seemed surprised,
because he had pedigreed dogs in his shop
and Tippy is — well, just dog. I paid two
dollars for him."

Long-haired, black with a white spot
on his paws, Tippy (they think) may be
part collie. Many times in the three years
since she has owned him, Deanna has
been offered canines of high degree as
gifts. She won't accept them. She's
afraid Tippy's feelings would be hurt by
an interloper. As for giving up Tippy to
make room for another . . . you'd better
not suggest it. He is her only pet, and
she's as loyal to him as he to her.

Wherever she has breakfast, Tippy is
there. The Durbin house doesn't contain
a breakfast room, so Deanna eats the
meal either in the dining room or on the
glassed-in porch off her bedroom. She
has it served on a white table cloth, by
the way. She doesn't like colored table
linen. And what she has is fruit — orange
juice or half a grapefruit most of the
time; cereal with half milk and half
cream; and hot chocolate. Occasionally
she takes toast and marmalade instead of
cereal.

Breakfast over, she drives across the
hill to Universal Studio in her own car.
She's been driving alone for only a few
weeks. If at work in a picture, she goes
directly to the hairdressing and make-
up departments. If not, she turns into
her bungalow (blue and white inside) ,
arriving there at nine o'clock for three
hours of schooling. Her grade is last
year high school, and she hopes to
graduate this semester.

People assure Deanna that a girl who
has a special teacher to concentrate on
her, usually progresses faster than a girl
who attends class in a public school. They
point out that Deanna studies the public
school subjects anyhow, with a teacher
appointed by the Board of Education.
Just the same, Deanna would rather be
in a big class at big Hollywood High, and
no argument changes her mind.

[ At noon she stops work, whether at
bungalow school or before the
camera, and lunches at a few minutes
after twelve o'clock. She eats the same
thing day after day until she grows tired
of it, which takes her from two to three
weeks.

The egg sandwich era is over, tem-
porarily at least, and currently her lunch
consists of small, open-face sandwiches
of assorted meats; cold chicken, roast beef,
lamb, tongue, ham — but not all on the
same day! To these she adds a mixed
green salad with thin French dressing, and
iced tea. About half the time she eats
ice cream for dessert. The other half, she
eats no dessert at all.

fl After lunch of course she returns to
the set if she's working. Otherwise,
she drives to her vocal teacher's for a
two-hour lesson. Home again, after
watching the high school let out, she

sometimes plays ping-pong with a girl
friend, or swims in the pool.

She's an excellent swimmer. Not riding
horseback, nor being much of a tennis
enthusiast, she depends on swimming for
most of her exercise, though she has to
confine herself to the pool. Her insurance
policy on her voice prevents ocean bath-
ing.

By and by she climbs from the pool, or
leaves the ping-pong game, and stretches
for a while in the sun. Frequently she
takes a cold soft drink or a candy bar in
mid-afternoon, but though Deanna was
born in Canada where English customs
prevail, she never takes afternoon tea.

For most Hollywood stars, the interval
between late afternoon and dinner has
been dedicated to dolling up for the
evening. But again Deanna turns out
to be different. Like the rest of the
Durbins, she lets common sense and the
demands of the moment be her guide.
That fresh young complexion needs no
time for massage and et ceteras. Even if
she's bound for some real function, like
one of her own premieres, she dresses in
the twinkling of an eye.

So sometimes she changes her clothes
for dinner, sometimes not. It depends on
what she has been doing or intends to
do. When working, she usually removes
her make-up as soon as she gets home,
takes a shower, and puts on an informal
hostess gown (invariably of royal blue)
before dining with her father and mother.
They enjoy these family dinners with
their leisurely discussion of the day's
events.

When she isn't at work, the evening
meal is at seven. When she is at work,
at seven -thirty. Her favorite dinner goes
like this:

A glass of papaya juice. A salad
(served before the meat course) of sliced
grapefruit, oranges, and fresh pineapple,
with a sriecial dressing made of equal
parts of lemon juice and olive oil.

The chief dish, however, will be lamb
chops in a glass casserole. This is the
way to cook them. First put in a layer
of raw carrots sprinkled with onions and
parsley chopped fine, several dabs of but-
ter, and a layer of sliced, raw potatoes.
Repeat the carrots, onion and parsley, and
put in a second layer of sliced, raw pota-
toes. Remove all the fat from loin lamb
chops and put the chops on top of the
vegetables with a small dab of butter.
Season with salt and pepper. Cover and
bake in the oven at 350 degrees for one
hour or until the carrots and potatoes
are somewhat crisp. Serve from the
casserole.

For dessert, canned black raspberries.

Now and then, too, Deanna likes ham
with pineapple. You bake a slice of ham
for half an hour, drain off the fat, pour
on about a half cup of pineapple juice,
and cover the ham with slices of the pine-
apple— fresh or canned. Put the ham
back in the oven, turn the pineapple
slices so that both sides will brown, and
baste often.

[ In the evening after dinner — well,

Deanna sees Vaughn Paul, that young

assistant director at Universal, two or

three nights a week. (Odd, in view of
this sweet and youthful romance, that
her latest picture should have been titled
It?s A Date) Much of the time they
go bowling, or to movies — any outstanding
picture. Now and then they go dancing.

For these events Deanna wears one of
the un-fussy frocks which she always
prefers, perhaps a dressmaker-tailored
ensemble or, for dancing, an evening
gown with a bouffant skirt. The clothes
colors she likes best are soft rose tones,
aqua, and — need one add? — blues both
royal and pastel.

The dress that pleases her most at
present is a hyacinth silk crepe that has
tiny, dim fuchsia flowers printed over it.
It has a straight skirt, and a surplice
bodice that forms a V-neckline and
fastens with a pastel flower clip. The
jacket, of thin wool in the fuchsia shade,
has a shoulder yoke at the front and a
triangular yoke running from the shoul-
ders to a point at the waistline in back,
both of the same print as the dress.

With this ensemble goes a pancake
beret made entirely of flowers that repeat
the shades in the gown. Her shoes, bag,
and gloves are of the hyacinth tone.
Smart? Ra-ther!

On evenings when Deanna isn't out
with Vaughn Paul, she visits her sister
Edith (Mrs. Clarence Heckman), who
teaches school in Los Angeles. She and
Edith have been devoted to each other
always. Or she takes her parents for

a drive, proudly handling the wheel her-
self. Or stays home and plays records —
her love of good music amounts to a
passion. Or reads a book, any book that
happens to be a best seller, though she's
fondest of biographies of musicians and
composers.

Incidentally, near the cabinet in the
living room which holds the phonograph
records, there are two other cabinets in
which she keeps ali sorts of knicknacks
sent by fans. These range from a rosy
shell picked up on a South Sea island
beach to a demure and life size koala bear,
made of wool, from Australia. Of her
own volition, however, Deanna does not
collect things; not even autographs.

Well, so bedtime comes. Even on
nights when she goes dancing, seven-
teen-year-old Deanna is home compara-
tively early. As a rule she goes to bed
anywhere from ten to eleven-thirty.

And, as in the matter of rising, she
wastes no time. There are no cold cream
rites for her face; she merely washes it
with soap and water. Then she hops into
tailored, silk pajamas — blue, of course —
hops into the walnut bed, sniffs a few sniffs
of the mock orange and jasmine fra-
grance drifting up from the garden, and
is asleep — zip! — like that, for a minimum
of eight hours.

After all, she can't afford to lie awake.
Young Deanna Durbin is a working girl.

English Broken Here

[Continued from page 28]

Curtiz-bossed set were it not for a hand-
ful of old-timers who are detailed by the
front office to instruct the newcomers in
a few of the basic ungrammatical rules
of the Curtiz language. To supplement
this necessary instruction, Bob Taplinger,
head of publicity, recently conceived the
smart idea of preparing a lexicon as a
means of providing a quicker and better
method of taking the director's ungram-
matical "bulls" by the horns. The lexicon
is already at the printers. With its dis-
tribution the studio has high hopes that
a careful study of it will go far to erase the
wild confusion that exists when a Curtiz
picture is ready to roll before the lenses.

To show you just what newcomers are
up against when they tackle an acting
chore for the famous director the first
time, consider this better-than-average
sample we caught when we visited the
Virginia City sound stage.

Sonny Bupp, who was playing the role
of Cobby, was awaiting his turn before the
cameras. Before doing so, however, im-
agine his amazement — and ours — when
Curtiz ordered him to run around the
walls of the huge stage six times and then
to dash into the scene with James Steven-
son.

"That sounds very silly to me," Sonny
piped up. "Very silly. What's all the
running for?"

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"Because," snapped Curtiz, "you must
be out from breathing!"

Spectators around the set broke into
unrestrained laughter at the grammatical
miscue. More than somewhat annoyed
at the outbreak, Curtiz turned, faced them
and practically dropped them in their
tracks with: "Anybody who should talk
when I am shooting this scene should be
kicked to death by a jackass and I'd like
to be the one to do it!"

Around Christmas time we drove into
the Mojave Desert and watched Curtiz
direct a number of location sequences in
the same picture. The cameras were set .
up near the Mojave River bed. Great
clusters of mistletoe clung to the tree
tops along the bank. Time after time
Curtiz called for a "take" only to discover
his extras climbing trees after the coveted
mistletoe. He finally curbed this menace
to motion picture schedules by shouting
at the top of his voice: "Any more bums
catching mistlefoot in trees can go home!"

The matter of proper "cuing" came up
shortly after the third take of a scene and
the director promptly settled it in his own
mind if not in the minds of the actors.

"Watch me now," he said. "I'll give you
the cue a feet before!"

In fine ungrammatical fettle after this
one, he turned to the extras standing to-
gether. "Hey," he yelled. "Why are you
fellows standing around in bundles?"

■ During the filming of a scene in
Elizabeth and Essex Curtiz wanted

Errol Flynn to move slightly backward.
"Please, Errol," he begged, "please, for me,
cheat yourself back a little frontwards!"

Now ordinarily, Flynn, having worked
in many pictures for the director, under-
stands him, but he was ready for the
pulmotor after this order and it took
Curtiz and three assistant directors at
least thirty minutes to wise him up.

Olivia de Havilland was completely
stumped, too, when Curtiz stopped her
from arranging her coiffure by saying:
"Don't fix your hair, Olivia; it's nice if it's
loosey! And listen, honey. In this scene
I should want you to sit a little more
feminine." Nobody knows yet what he
meant by that.

Curtiz shot this scene over and over
with Olivia sitting as feminine as she
could, but still something was wrong and
finally he called it off and began rehears-
ing it. Over and over. He wanted the
dialogue and action to be absolutely
natural, but you'd never guess it from his
instruction to the players engaged. "The
scene should be rehearsed as many times
until it is not 100 per cent perfect," he
told them.

In the same picture the director got
mighty provoked because Flynn and
Bette Davis failed him in an intimate
scene. "Please, please," he begged, "make
me a love nest from out of it!"

■ While preparing for a fire sequence
in Dodge City one of his assistants

rushed up and shouted a query. "Mr.
Curtiz, do you want the debris to fall?"

"No," came the answer. "I don't want
any actors to fall — just timbers and stuff.
And make it good. I want this to be so

exciting it makes your blood curl!" He
turned, then, to an "animal man" about
giving a cue to a dog. "When this scene
is half through," he said, "can you bark
the dog? And I want that the dog should
bark from left to right."

Curtiz meant by that that the dog should
wag its head from left to right, but the
animal man just about went crazy before
he understood.

We were in Curtiz' office just the other
day when he was telephoning his dentist
for an appointment. "When will you be
vacant?" he asked.

| If the famous director's acquaintance
with the English language is limited
the same cannot be said of his acquain-
tance with the world at large.

At the age of eleven he was playing a bit
in an opera in which his mother was sing-
ing the leading role. A few years later he
was playing leads in classical and modern
drama in his native city of Budapest,
Hungary. Urged on by a desire to en-
large his horizon and see a greater variety
of life, he went trouping through the
capitals of Europe for two years. With
this added to his experience he joined up
as a pantomimist in a circus. At the out-
break of the World War he had reached a
point in his career where he was sought
after to direct motion pictures, and had
attained notable success in this field. He
joined the Austrian heavy artillery as a
second lieutenant and saw active service
on the Russian front. Wounded, he re-
turned to Austria and after recovering
from his injuries he was placed in charge
of making Red Cross benefit newsreels.

The war over, Curtiz found a two and a
half year directorial engagement with
Sascha Productions in Hungary. Another
two years was spent in like capacity for
UFA. Then to Denmark and from there
to Norway and Sweden. Later on he
went to France and worked for Cinema
Eclaire then on to Italy to work with
Torino. After that came engagements in
England and Germany. The man cer-
tainly got around.

During these travels Curtiz made the
acquaintance of Ernst Lubitsch who
started in pictures about the same time
he did.

Besides directing throughout Europe,
Curtiz also wrote sixty film plays, all of
which were produced.

It was after his return to Germany that
Harry M. Warner, president of Warner
Brothers Pictures, watched him working,
saw three of his pictures, interviewed him
and signed him up.

We won't list any of his early pictures
which he directed on the Warner lot, but
of his later efforts you surely remember
such outstanding ones as Captain Blood,
The Charge of the Light Brigade, The
Adventures of Robin Hood, Gold Is Where
You Find It, Four Daughters, Dodge City,
The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex,
Four Wives, and Virginia City.

All of which goes to prove that while
he has a habit of breaking the English
language, he also has the habit of making
pictures that break all box-office records.

Now, as a final fillip we want to re-
late one more notable "broken English"

example manufactured without mirrors
by the man who puts more syn into syntax
than ever dreamed of by Webster and who
can split infinitives into more pieces than
Lincoln ever did rails.

In one of the Elizabeth and Essex se-
quences a soldier of the queen was sup-
posed to rush into the palace, fall at the
queen's feet and give his message.

It was a very important sequence, so
Curtiz said, and he wanted it absolutely
perfect. He took the soldier aside and
coached him for fully ten minutes. Satis-
fied, finally, that the soldier understood,
the director gave the order to start the
cameras rolling.

The soldier of the queen came in, knelt
at the sovereign lady's feet — and Curtiz
hit the ceiling. In fact he hit it three
times he was that hot under the collar. He
didn't take the soldier aside this time. He
just stood there and laid it on.

"I told you ten times how you should
do," he barked, "and you do it wrong
quick! I want you should be hysterical
like I said. You are a soldier, an hysterical
character and you should act it that way.
Now we try it once again and when you
come in, come in hysterical."

Well, the soldier came in, so hysterical,
this time, that he acted like a crazy man.
He cut up all kinds of fancy didoes and
at that precise moment was undoubtedly
the most agitated human being on the
whole Warner lot. Curtiz foamed at the
mouth as he watched, and his "CUT!!!"

could have been heard for miles around.

"I said," he shouted at the discomfited
actor, "that you should come in hysterical
and what do you do? Bah! Like a monkey
on three sticks! Okay, we try it one more
time. And please, please, my friend, be
hysterical."

The heckled actor, determined to do or
die, came in one more time, and if you
ever laid eyes on a guy chock full of
conniption fits it was on this one. He was
hysterical plus and doubled in spades!
Curtiz gave him one look, shouted "CUT!"
and ducked behind a prop until he could
regain his composure.

During the pause that didn't refresh, the
soldier dashed from one actor to another
begging them to tell him what the blank -
ety-blank-blank the director wanted him
to do. "He tells me to be hysterical and
when I am he goes wild. If I don't make
it on the next 'take' he'll fire me, sure!
For Pete's sake, if you know what he
wants, tell me before he comes back."

All of them gave him the same answer.

"We just work here," they said, "Bet-
ter see Errol Flynn. He's the only man
who can understand him."

But Errol was nowhere in sight and
couldn't be found.

Curtiz came from behind his wailing
wall. He had himself under control and
he said in as patient a tone of voice as he
could muster: "I shall show you how by
myself. Then see if you can't be so hys-
terical as me."

He came on stage as dignified and as
important as a visiting nobleman. Every
inch a soldier of the queen he was and
one couldn't have found a trace of hysteria
on him with a high powered microscope!

It was the script girl who finally solved
the riddle.

"He wants you to be historical," she
whispered to the befuddled actor. "You're
supposed to be an historical character and
you should act that way. Mr. Curtiz
meant historical, not hysterical. Get it?"

The actor got it. Not only that but he
got an okay from Curtiz on the very next
take. But as he confessed later, it was a
terrible experience while it lasted!

Yes, indeed, there's never a dull moment
when Michael Curtiz directs a picture.

And better yet, there's never a dull
picture when a Curtiz-directed film is
finished.

Alongside those "English Broken Here"
signs that adorn the sound stage should
be "Box-Office Records Broken Here" be-
cause that's what this famous director's
pictures are doing all over the country.

There is no truth to the rumor that Hugh
Herbert had to sign six contracts for his latest
picture, and they say that it broke his agent's
heart. Herbert plays six different roles in
La Conga Nights at Universal, but he gets only
one check for playing himself, his four sisters and
his mother!

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ACROSS

Claudette Colbert's native city.
A star of Strange Cargo.

to Singapore.

Principal male character in a screenplay.
First, name of Irene Hervey's husband.

The Stars Down.

Birthplace of Ginger Rogers (abbr.).
Villain's side glance.
Mrs. Lowry in Women Without Names.
His last name is Bernie.
Dennie in Of Mice and Men.
Wives.

Actress wed to Joel McCrea.

A Woman the Judge.

Descriptive of Gone With the Wind.
She plays fluttery mother roles.

Passage.

A star of My Favorite Wife.

What potential screen stars hope to pass.

Mr. Rathbone's initials.

And Was Beautiful.

Legion of Flyers.

State where movies are made (abbr.).
A star of Adventure in Diamonds.
The girl in Danger Ahead.
Mrs. Errol Flynn.
Katherine Mille.

of the Pampas (pi.).

Dr. Ehrlich's Bullet.

Miss Lynn's first name.
Artie Shaw's bride.
Theatre stalls.

Star of The Man From Dakota.

9.
10.
13.
15.

16.

17.
19.
20.
22.

23.
25.
26.
27.

28.
29.
31.
33.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
41.
42.
43.
44.

DOWN

A star of Man From Montreal.
Sound made by M-G-M's Leo.
Cambreau in Strange Cargo.
Stem's initials.

The Hall Johnson .

First name of Mr. Errol, comedian.
Bob Burns' native state (abbr.).
Mr. Owen's initials.

Philo Vance.

of the Navy.

First name of one who was Dr.

Baker

Rebecca (poss.).

Whose role was that of Quasimodo in Hunch-
back of Notre Dame?
He was Vestry in Man From Dakota.
Myrna Doy's birthplace (abbr.).
He was the Dion in Wizard of 0~.
Pioneers took refuge in this in Drums Along
the Mohawk.

Star .

The Wolf Strikes.

Elizabeth Robinson in Swiss Family Robinson.

Scientist recently portrayed by Edward G.

Robinson.

Mrs. Harper in Brother Rat and a Baby.

A star of My Little Chickadee.

Feminine lead in Wolf of New York.

Honeymoon in .

Actress wed to William Powell.

What 20 Across smokes.

Bessie in The Light That Failed.

First name of Mr. Richmond.

A star of Three Cheers for the liish.

Million- Dollar (sing.).

First name of 29 Down.
Initials of a star of Rebecca.
Miss Ball's initials.

(Solution on page 55)

Conies the Revolution

[Continued from page 25]

and filled with exquisite furniture of the
period. From these plans it was possible
to build a copy of the guard houses where
the soldiers lounged in their red coats, of
the smoke house, of the pleasure canal
which so angered the colonial settlers,
heavily burdened with taxes to support
that grandeur, of the Gaol, the Court-
house, and dozens of other structures.

Location trips across the country are
expensive affairs, but it is no wonder that
Columbia Studios happily okayed the
journey for Director Frank Lloyd, Cary
Grant, Sir Lcdric Hardwicke, Richard
Carlson and die rest of the cast. It is no
wonder that a special train was chartered
and packed with eighty-six cases of cos-
tumes with never a frown from the ac-
counting department. It is no wonder that
expense accounts for dozens of top tech-
nicians were authorized with never a com-
plaint from the production department.
Williamsburg never had been used in a
feature production, and there it was, wait-
ing to act its own vital part in the filmed
story of the Revolution.

H Photographing Williamsburg was not
so simple a matter as moving in some
cameras and going to work. Director
Lloyd made a special trip a month and a
half before filming started, and assured
Rockefeller that nothing would be injured,
nothing would be changed by the sojourn
of his company. The promises were backed
up by a $10,000 bond to guarantee that no
walls would be knocked down, no price-
less antiques broken.

Williamsburg has suffered invasions of
one kind and another before. Williams-
burg had reason to distrust the arrival of
"westerners," "Yankees" and the British
(after all, weren't both Cary Grant and
Sir Cedric Hardwicke born on British
soil?)

"Westerners" had ruined the town first,
when in 1622 hordes of Indians rushed
the stout log palisade and burned the
settlement to the ground. Hot fighting at
Jamestown, at Yorktown, and at Rich-
mond overflowed into Williamsburg at
the time of the Revolution, and the skirm-
ishes of the Civil War left ugly marks.
The more peaceful inroads of commerce
had almost finished the destruction when
the restoration started. Hideous box-like
factory buildings, ungainly railroad sta-
tions, bill-boards, hot-dog stands, and gas
stations jostled the old buildings for room.
No wonder Williamsburg feared anything
so modern as an invasion of the movies.

That is why they were rolling up the
streets when I flew down from New York
to watch the Revolution come back to
Virginia.

Preceding the cameras was a convoy of
trucks, manned by crews of busy darkies.
They were shoveling earth over the street
and tamping it down securely so that the
anachronistic modern paving would not
spoil the perfection of the street scene.
Behind the cameras was another convoy
of trucks. They were just as hard at work
picking up the newly-laid street. Half an

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hour after the scene was shot, the road
was clean again, ready for the rubber tires
of the tourists who were flocking in from
all over the east to see the movies being
made.

■ The tourists might have been a prob-
lem to a less understanding man than
Lloyd. They kept getting themselves,
their cars, and their children into the
ranks of the extras. They shot off their
flashlights straight into the big night
scenes. And one of them waked Cary
Grant up at two o'clock in the morning to
get his autograph.

She had to leave at four o'clock her-
self, she explained, and she felt that four
o'clock was too early to waken him! When
Cary Grant, quite understandably, re-
marked with sleepy despair that two
o'clock was too early also, she flung him
the fighting word. "You're just a Yankee
with a Yankee name and Yankee man-
nuhs!" she said crisply, and departed with
dignity.

But she came back at four.

That time Grant signed.

That was the only distressing inci-
dent of the whole time, unless you
count the episode of the horse distress-
ing. Cary Grant did. But more of that
later.

For the rest, as soon as the authorities
realized that gentlemen live in Holly-
wood, too, nothing was too much trouble
if it would help the picture people. It was
Director Lloyd's patient realization that
he and his cast were just as much unique
objects of interest to Williamsburg as
Williamsburg was to them that won over
the community. Before the big torchlight
parade scene, he took care to announce
that flash bulbs on the sidelines would
be just a little hard to explain in the film,
and that, if the spectators would wait
until he gave the signal that his own
shots were complete, he would keep the
scene running for several extra minutes
so that all of the film in town could be ex-
posed. The populace got the point quickly.
After that, cooperation was complete.
After all, everybody had relatives in the
mob scene. Of course they did not want
to spoil little Johnny's chances to get on
the screen.

It was the dean of William and Mary
College who finally had to stop several
promising acting careers at the beginning.
It wasn't that the dean didn't want to help.
After all, William and Mary is the oldest
college in the United States, and the orig-

AMEN0*S GmlGmdg. FOR ML THE FAMIIY

inal building, erected in 1693 from the
plans of Sir Christopher Wren, still stands.
Harvard College was chartered half a
week before William and Mary, but
William and Mary started classes first.
That makes it the oldest, they will tell you
in Williamsburg. So the dean was sympa-
thetic when practically the entire student
body fell ill on the day the movie com-
pany arrived. The dean was sympathetic
to the fact that the student body felt that
fresh air and exercise was the best cure
for the mysterious epidemic. But he
finally had to plead with Director Lloyd
to choose his extras from the list of honor
grade students and not jeopardize the
standing of students who were not doing
so well in history.

■ Cary Grant is playing Matt Howard,
backwoodsman of a poor family who
had to battle, not only Indians and heavy
taxes, but the demands of grafting colonial
politicians. Richard Carlson plays young
Tom Jefferson, whose family was wealthy
and powerful. Matt and Tom represented
the extremes of colonial society, but both
saw an equally bright red when the Stamp
Act was passed.

It will be a reassuring thing to those
who find historical pictures somewhat
wearisome to know that Jefferson never
does sign the Declaration of Independence
in this film. So far as my memory serves,
it will be the first time a picture about the
War of Independence doesn't show a
scrawling quill pen in a portentous close-
up of that document. It sounds like quite
a novel movie.

Sidney Buchman, the scenarist, con-
tented himself with a fiery scene between
the angry Matt, who declares, "They can't
do this to us!" and an answer from the
rather more thoughtful Jefferson, "No.
That's taxation without representation."

Incidentally, an amusing sidelight on
the Tories of that day and of this is the
frightful argument that Richard Carlson
found himself in with a local citizen.

"I'm sorry for you, young man," said the
local citizen. "Jefferson was no good . . .
unsympathetic part. Bad break for you."

Carlson said that he was finding Jeffer-
son a most absorbing study.

"He was a traitor to his class, sir!" re-
torted the local citizen, and proceeded to
explain just how Jefferson's ideas are still
ruining the country.

B Carlson had plenty of time to listen
because he was having the novel ex-
perience of not having to change his
clothes for each different shot.

When the costume designs were first
submitted to Director Lloyd, he was
astounded to find twenty-four different
suits for young Jefferson. That would have
been only normal for the average picture,
and Columbia is not holding down the ex-
pense, so the production department had
been given a free hand. They were nice
suits, but Lloyd rejected twenty-one of
them. He pointed out that a gentleman
in those days, unless he were a great
dandy, would have an everyday suit, a
Sunday suit, some older clothes for rid-
ing, and perhaps an extra very gay get-up
for routs and balls. So Carlson had no
difficulties with his dress-:- and plenty of

time to hear all of the worst from the man
who hated Jefferson.

Some of the trees under which George
Washington walked still are standing in
Williamsburg. And it is quite likely that
Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson vis-
ited in some of the buildings that have
endured from their day to this. But for
the greater part, the important buildings
in Williamsburg, itself, are wonderful re-
constructions.

However, one of the few great colonial
houses still standing in Virginia is only
six miles from Williamsburg and Director
Lloyd counts himself singularly fortunate
that Mrs. Archibald McCrea gave per-
mission for the photographing of Carter's
Grove which dates from 1690, and which
today is even more beautiful than when
its pine panels first were hewed out of
the virgin forest. The vast house is in
perfect repair, the ancient elms and tulip
trees surrounding it have grown to im-
mense size. The interior is filled with
priceless pieces of furniture, and is alive
with memories of great people and events.

On the time-darkened, polished ban-
nister which curves to the upper floors,
are still to be seen the saber marks, hacked
into the carved wood by a rioting British
officer who rode his horse up the steps
during the time Colonel Tarleton of the
British Light Horse Cavalry occupied the
house. In the drawing room, George
Washington proposed to Mary Cary, and
Thomas Jefferson asked the "fair Belinda"

to marry him. Neither lady accepted, and
to this day, it is known as "The Refusal
Room."

Living with saber marks, no matter if
they are many decades old, is not a thing
to make the owner of a beautiful home
welcome a troop . . . even if it is a movie
troupe and not a troop of soldiers. But,
because Mrs. McCrea realized the unique
value her home would lend to the picture,
she made the visitors welcome.

If she had any misgivings when hun-
dreds of "British Soldiers" began building
camp fires all over her smooth lawns, they

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were dispelled two hours later. The camp
fires were built, the "soldiers" cooked
their bayonet bread, and moved on for
another scene in the woods. Hardly had
the fires been stamped out than a bat-
talion of gardeners appeared with new
turf for the burned areas, and, by the time
the extras were back on the busses for
Williamsburg, not a trace of the latest "in-
vasion" was to be found.

Except perhaps on Cary Grant. He had
cause to remember the occupation of
Carter's Grove for some days.

His important scene at the lovely old
estate was on horseback. Out of the woods
he was supposed to dash, and down
through a grove of trees. And out of the
woods he did dash, but, just as he galloped
full tilt at the grove, one of the ever-
present tourists, determined on an action
snapshot, jumped out of the side lines. The
spirited horse shied, and Grant got a
crashing blow against an apple tree. An
inch closer, and the end of that star's
acting days might have been written.

The movie troupe is back in Hollywood
now. Williamsburg has returned to the
comparative quiet of entertaining some
10,000 visitors each week. Frank Lloyd is
planning his next picture and the actors
are playing in other movies. But, when you
see The Howards of Virginia don't forget
that these backgrounds will never be
struck to make room for other settings.
Don't forget that this is the background
for all of us alive in America today.

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Signs of Success

[Continued from page 27]

insurance companies had refused to write
for them . . . their own organizations to
fight apprehensive legislators who sought
to prevent deaf-mutes marrying . . .
motor vehicle departments who refused
to give them drivers' licenses . . . em-
ployers who feared to employ them. . . .

Lon Chaney, Jr., refused to go back to
engineering. He hung on with all his
patience and faith.

The day before he was tested at Hal
Roach Studios for the role of Lennie, I
talked to him concerning the difficulties
of following in his father's footsteps.

"Things looked rather dark profes-
sionally a few months ago," he said. "Then
Wally Ford had sufficient love for my
father and enough courage of his own to
cast me as Lennie in Of Mice and Men
in the West Coast stage production. Critics
opinions were very good and I feel that
out of that will come something.

"If I had the appearance for more ro-
mantic roles, it might have been easier.
But my appearance and my talents are
in the same direction as my father's. He
is quite a person to live up to."

Perhaps the work on the stage was just
what young Lon needed to combine pan-
tomime and dialogue effectively. Perhaps
Lennie was just the role to work that out.
In any event, Lennie gave Lon Chaney,
Jr., the opportunity to portray a difficult
character role successfully.

And now the young man is being given
further opportunities to display this talent
in roles with plenty of weight. Following
1,000,000 B. C. comes the chance to play
an important role in The Unholy Horde.

All this we discussed on our hands.

At this point, comely young Eleanor
Riley, whose role in Turnabout is her
first under her new contract with Hal
Roach, asked if she couldn't please kinda
join in.

Lon and I had been talking so fast and
furiously that we hadn't realized anyone
else at the luncheon table had been par-
ticularly entertained by our conversation
ence the novelty of watching our flying
hands had worn off.

So Lon began to explain a few signs
to her. He called her attention first to
distinguishing features about several ani-
mals . . . little ears for a horse contrasting
with huge ears for mules . . . long, slim,
turnback ears for a rabbit . . . antlers for
an elk.

She caught on quickly and copied him
accurately. About that time, someone
almost wrecked the day by asking Lon
to say "a nice, tender, juicy dinosaur
steak" (which, you gather, are some of
the terms being used in 1,000,000 B. C).

Lon looked at me helplessly. He could
say "nice," "tender," "juicy" and "steak"
. . . but "dinosaur!!" That was something
else again! I looked at him helplessly,
too.

I was just about to resort to saying,
"Well, after all, we're not that ancient!"
But suddenly I thought of the ABC sign
language that every youngster knows.

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Trusting that Lon could spell dinosaur,
I signalled to him to spell the words out.
And so the day was saved! Or should I
say our hands' face was saved! Well,
maybe I'd better just leave it alone.

Anyway, no one else made any more
such wild suggestions. After all, even
though the sign language was invented
before speech, it still has its advantages
in modern living. It's fine for making
yourself understood over the blare of the
radio. It's fine for telling your husband

that the guests have heard that story a
dozen times before . . . without actually
being accused of embarrassing him before
guests.

After dealing triumphantly with the
dinosaur situation, we all started for
home. Not having used the sign language
for some time, I stopped at a drug store
for a bottle of good, old-fashioned lini-
ment, and there was Lon Chaney, Jr.,
making the same purchase. We agreed
that silence is a fine thing — at times!

A Ghost Story

[Continued from page 30]

dozen nuts, bolts and rivets he's a better
man than I am.

I don't mind, now, doing a bit of ghost-
writing about the didos that went on
during the filming, but so far as ever
again helping someone play "the little
man who wasn't there" like I did for
Warner Baxter, you can "include me out"
as Mr. Samuel Goldwyn would so aptly
put it.

If all this sounds screwy and stamps
me with an I. Q. of minus zero you can
blame it on the script and not me. Earth-
bound is the story of a rich married guy
(Warner Baxter) who gets bumped off by
his sweetie-pie (Lynn Bari) because she
loves him so-o-o-o much, and whose
spirit, spook, or ghost can't leave the earth
until it can make itself heard by the gal
who up and shot him dead. Baxter be-
gins his ghosting on page 29 of the script
and after that he spends his shadowy time
walking through doors, windows, jail cells,
jury rooms and whatnot as surprised as
all get out that he is able to do this, and
mad as a hatter because nobody pays any
attention to what he has to say concern-
ing the modus operandi of his murder.
He attends his own funeral, whispers to
his sweetie-pie who is one of his chief
mourners, and gets angry when she pays
him no attention. When the trial begins
he's right there beside the judge, jury and
lawyers. He tries to tell them that the
man (Henry Wilcoxon) who stands ac-
cused of the crime is innocent. He begs
his wife (Andrea Leeds) to forget her
grief and carry on, he urges his rootin'
tootin' shootin' sweetie-pie to confess.
Well, he finally gets his wife to hear him
and she, finally, gets the murderess to con-
fess and with that out of the way he wins
his release from earth.

Perhaps this vague and rather shadowy
synopsis of the story doesn't stamp the pic-
ture as being such-a-much, but don't let
what you've read fool you. Earthbound,
despite its ghostly atmosphere as supplied
by Baxter, is mighty entertaining. And
believe it or not, there's spots of some rib-
tickling humor in it.

In order that Earthbound could be shot
at all, the camera department had to put
on its collective thinking cap and produce
some new camera magic. This was finally
accomplished by inventing what the tech-
nicians tabbed as a "two-way" camera.
In other words it was able to photograph
the ghost sequences in two directions at

once. This was done by attaching a prism
directly in front of the camera lens. One
of the planes of the prism was coated with
mercury to make it slightly mirror-like
so that it could hold the ghost's reflec-
tion.

What the film recorded was this reflec-
tion, thus giving the ghost its semi-trans-
parency. In many of the sequences
Baxter was from twenty to thirty feet
away from the other principals, but on
the finished film you will see him ming-
ling with them and often reaching out his
wraith-like hands to touch them. One of
the cleverest tricks in the whole picture
so far as shooting is concerned is where
Baxter's ghost picks up an injured bird,
holds it in his hand and then carries it
away. At the same time Baxter's body
is shown to be transparent and passes
right through all physical objects.

H When I reported for work on Earth-
bound, I had no idea what the story
was about, or who was to play in it. All
they told me was to report Monday morn-
ing and be ready to do a little mountain
climbing, so I mosey over to the wardrobe
department and ease myself into some
heavy woolen clothes, and a guy hands me
a coil of rope and a gadget that looks like a
second cousin to a pickaxe and tells me to
beat it over to Stage No. 4, which is colder
than the inside of an iceberg when I get
there. The temperature is hovering
around forty above. Everybody is push-
ing everybody else around, trying to get
near the electric heaters that are going
full blast to keep misery out of their bones.
After I push my way inside and get my
tootsies warm, what do I see off to one side
but a set built to represent a scene in the
Alps. The studio-built mountains reach
almost to the roof and what's more, I can
see that what's supposed to represent snow
and ice IS snow and ice. I make inquiries
here and there and find that Mr. Darryl
Zanuck, the production chief of the studio,
had such a yen for realism for this picture
that he ordered fifty tons of ice and had
it shaved and shoveled up into drifts and
slides. To keep the snow and ice from
melting, the air cooling system was turned
on to its highest point, and, lady, believe
you me, it was cold!

The sequence was to show Baxter and
his wife, Andrea Leeds, doing a bit of ex-
pert mountaineering by way of a holiday
exercise. They were supposed to inch
their way up these Alps and when they

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arrived, at the top, eat the lunch they have
with them.

Well, Baxter comes on the set and with
him Miss Leeds, and she is looking cuter
than a bug's ear. She gives a look at the
jagged studio rocks and the glaring ice
and snow, and whispers something to
Baxter. He, in turn, whispers something
to Director Irving Pichel, and Pichel looks
at me and another guy and says for us to
climb up first just for a test, the idea being,
I could see, that somebody would be handy
to mark the spots that might prove
dangerous to the two principals. Well, this
other guy and I start out from the bottom
and work up until we reach a spot about
halfway distant from the summit, where
I slip. Before I can shout, "Alp! Alp! Alp!"
down I come, hell-for-leather. I hit one
rock with my shoulder, bump another
with my right hip (the one that carries
the deep imprint of a mule's hoof planted
there by an over- zealous mule during the
filming of 20 Mule Team) , turn a nifty
flip-flop in mid-air, slide down the rest
of the way on my probosis, and so come
to a halt not three feet from Director
Pichel who just manages to step aside
before I give him a football block that
would have sent him home in an ambu-
lance.

In the meantime, my fine Alpine friend,
the guy who climbed up with me, had
his troubles, too. His foot slipped like
mine did and with practically the same
consequences. When he hit bottom he
skidded across the sound stage and came
to a stop right under the camera tripod
with not less than ten feet of his rope
wrapped around his neck, and two feet of
his ice pick sticking out of the back of his
shirt. When the prop boys finally got him
untangled, he walked up to Director
Pichel, and, looking this kindly man
squarely in the eyes, he said in a voice
that was either choked with emotion or
full of chipped ice, "Mister Pichel, keep
your picture!" And with that he walked
off the sound stage and right out of the
picture for good and all.

I was all for doing the same thing, but
valor always being the better part of dis-
cretion in the picture business I did not
choose to run. Besides, baby needed a new
pair of shoes. And besides, too, my curi-
osity was just morbid enough to make me
want to stick around and see how Warner
Baxter and Andrea Leeds handled them-
selves when the director ordered them to
work on this upward and onward se-
quence. Well, I'll say this for them — our
spills failed to dampen their enthusiasm
for their parts, and, despite the solid
bumps each one took, they kept ever-
lastingly at it until they reached the top.
Andrea, by the way, was covered with
bruises from ankles to waist as a result of
this Alpine adventure (it took two full
days to shoot) and her doctor kept her
in bed for the next two days. Baxter got
himself a dislocated finger and a sprained
back as physical awards for poor climbing
but since he had to be a mere shadow of
himself the following day he had to keep
on the job.

Well, comes the dawn of the third
day and I'm on my way to the studio.
After getting myself a cup of coffee at the

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lunch counter, I amble over to the stage,
and about an hour later I see Linda (Lynn
Bari) pull a six-gun out of her bag. Be-
fore Baxter can move to grab her she
mows him down, bang, bang, just like
that, and he goes rolling down the stair-
case.

Personally, I stand there watching all
this and I say to myself, and the blond
cutie near me, that this is one strange
way to start a moom pichur by shooting
the leading man before he gets as far as
page 29 of the script, and she turns to me
and says: "Brother, you ain't seen any-
thing yet!" and sure enough, I ain't!

"Lookit!" says this dame, giving my arm
a pinch.

And so I look and what do I see?

Well, there's good old Baxter stretched
out on the floor deader than last week's
"Confucius Say," but there, also, is
Baxter's ghost standing right where the
fracas took place! He's dressed in white
and his face is white and he — or it — says,
regarding his deadeye-Dick lady friend
in a bewildered sort of way: "Now look
what you did! You can't fool around with
a gun! Someone's bound to be hurt. Might
have hit me." The ghost watches Jeff
(Henry Wilcoxon) feel the pulse of the
dead man lying below him, hears Six-gun
Linda sobbing and says: "What's got into
you? There's nothing the matter with
me. You listen to me! I'm here! Can't you
see me? Can't you hear me?" Paying no
attention, Jeff and Linda rush out of the
room. The door slams and the ghost runs
after them. When it reaches the door, it
reaches for the handle. The ghost naturally
had expected the door to open so it steps
forward instinctively and blow me down
if it doesn't walk right through the solid
wood! And I'm here to tell you that when
that happened the ghost looked no more
astonished and perplexed than I did.

As a matter of fact, I am so non-plussed
by now that I let out a yip like I was hav-
ing six teeth pulled all at once, and the

blond cutie digs me a good one in the
ribs with her elbow and whispers, "You
dope!" and Director Pichel yells, "Cut!"
and gives me a very, very dirty look while
I stand there trembling like a weeping
willow that's just heard bad news.

While they do this scene over again I
go outside and get myself a breath of
fresh air. When the red light goes off
above the sound stage door, I sneak back
for more punishment which arrives when
I see that ghastly ghost go tearing through
another door and then race down a cor-
ridor to an elevator. I see it pound on the
elevator door and hear it yell something
weird about the rotten service.

This monkey work isn't so bad on my
nerves, but when it says: "Holy smoke!
I'll miss my train!" and see it sort of fade
out of sight, believe you me, I'm through
for the day! A guy can stand just so
much, and I decide to get me some spirits
of my own. As soon as I can I head
toward a grog shop about a half mile
from the studio and Liortify myself.

[ I don't report until the second day
after that, and when I do I find myself
a spectator in a jury room watching Mr.
Ghost walk around as agitated as any self-
respecting spook can be. It's when it
talks loud and long with no one paying
it the slightest attention that I decide to
call the whole thing off. My baby may be
needing a pair of new shoes, but I need
my sanity.

! You may be interested to know that
there isn't a ghost of a chance for
you ever to talk me into another picture
even vaguely similar to Earthbound in
plot. I'm scared off. Now let's get on my
next job hunting assignment.

Why kain't I do a Gene Autry hoss
operay so's I kin sit myself a-straddle a
buckin' cayuse and giddyap myself into
a mess of he-man action? What say,
podner?

That is a very fond glance that James Stewart and Olivia de Havilland are exchanging
at the cocktail party given by Frank Capra and Robert Riskin. But maybe they are
just laughing at Alan Hale's beard which he is cultivating for The Sea Hawk

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Feeding^ the Bunch

Young movie stars love informal parties and
they get just as hungry as other high school
youngsters. Here is how Jackie Cooper's
mother solves the problem of quick meals

By BETTY CROCKER

■ Jackie Cooper is
Hollywood's most
amazing and unpre-
dictable young host. It's
positively against his
creed to plan a get-to-
gether, a jivin' meet, a
jam-session, a shindig, or
any one of the other weird
titles that young folk call
parties these days.

When Jackie is between
pictures, hungry people have a way of
dropping in at the big white house on
Crescent Drive in Beverly Hills — at any
hour, any day, and on the slightest ex-
cuse.

As a result, Jackie's understanding and
charming young mother, Mable Bigelow,
has to be an executive of no mean ability
to meet the "eat demands" — and she is.

Daily, as regularly as the order for the
household necessities are placed at the
grocery store, the huge, two-hundred-
pound refrigerator in the Bigelow kitchen
is stacked with cold meats, potato salad,
vegetable salad, hard-boiled eggs, cheese,
pickles (both dill and sweet) olive and
nut spreads, berry tarts, olives, celery
and a hundred and one other tasty victuals
that simply melt in your mouth if you are
fortunate enough to be on the receiving
end of Jackie's always cordial "drop in
this afternoon for a swim and some eats."

Mrs. Bigelow says it's not as difficult
to be ready for a party at all times as it
may sound, or nearly so extravagant.
When you have two husky, hearty men
in the house (like Jackie and his step-

dad) you have to keep
plenty of food on hand
anyway — and the extra
items in snacks can always
blend into the family
menu should the dropper-
inners not dispose of
them.

Left-overs are prac-
tically unheard of, how-
ever. If Jackie's pals
happen to miss an after-
noon, there's always need for a spread
after band practice. Jackie and his band
held twice-weekly rehearsals in the
rumpus room — a gay, knotty-pine, chintzy
room as far apart from the main part of
the house as possible. Driving past the
Bigelow house in the middle of one of
these sessions, you'd wonder how anyone
in the neighborhood can be on speaking
terms with Jackie. When the boys go
into their swing the music's great, but the
practice on new arrangements well, there
have been no audible protests, so ap-
parently the neighbors just grin and
bear it.

Sunday at the Coopers is a hep-cat's
paradise, a wild melee of flying youthful
legs and laughter and strange melodies,
with Jackie, grinning from ear to ear,
"giving out" both riffs and rolls from the
drums, and very soft drinks from the
playroom "bar."

Among the regulars are Bonita
Granville, the Mauch twins, Bobby and
Bill, Peggy Stewart, Leila Ernst, Buddy
Pepper, Judy Garland, and the band boys.
During the warm months the big swim-

ming pool just off the patio, which is next
to the rumpus room, provides a popular
lure for the entire gang after the swing-
eroo sessions are over. So we get back to
the subject of favored snacks.

A finely ground sausage, baked between
strips of crisp puff pastry and rolled and
cut about the size of lady-fingers is the
piece de resistance of every buffet. And
Jackie's big black cook admits she never
yet has been able to gauge the quantity
properly. "Jus' can't make enuff to ever
have even one left on the dish — those kids
like 'em so," she grins proudly.

Poppy-seed rolls, sliced and warmed
with a generous spread of butter and a
sprinkling of Parmesan cheese is another
favored combination, to accompany the
cold meat plate.

Salads vary from fresh vegetable, to
fruit and melon, and Chef, with strips of
ham and chicken.

Chocolate cake, or individual berry
tarts, or frozen fruit compotes or ice
cream provide the top-off for the grandest
buffet in Hollywood and the gayest Sun-
day afternoons.

TEEN AGE RECIPES
BANANA NUT BREAD

Vi cup shortening
3A cup sugar
1 eg;

1 egg
% cup bananas (about 2), mashed

2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
Vz tsp. baking powder

Vz tsp. soda
% tsp. salt

3 tbsp. sour milk or buttermilk
Vz cup chopped nuts

Cream shortening, add sugar gradually,
and cream thoroughly. Beat egg well,
and blend into the creamed mixture. Stir
in the mashed bananas. Sift flour, baking
powder, soda, and salt together and add
to the creamed mixture alternately with
the sour milk or buttermilk. Stir in the
chopped nuts. Pour into well greased
baking pan, 41/2x81</2 inches across the bot-
tom (and 2% inches deep). Bake 1 hour
in a moderate oven, 350°.

CHEF'S SALAD

Vz medium-size cucumber (thinly sliced

or cut in sticks)
About 1V2 cups cold baked ham and

chicken or other meat (cut in long,

thin, match-stick strips)
French Dressing
1 head of lettuce (shredded)
3 tomatoes (cut in wedges)
Mayonnaise Dressing
3 hard-cooked eggs
6 radishes (thinly sliced, whole, or as

"roses")
Olives or pickles (sliced)

Marinate cucumber and some of the
pieces of meat with a little French Dress-
ing. Let stand in refrigerator about 1
hour. Just before serving, add lettuce and
tomatoes. Mix with mayonnaise. Place
on serving platter or on individual salad
plates. Place additional strips of meat
over the top. Garnish with hard-cooked

eggs, radishes, and olives or pickles.
Number of servings: 6. Note: If desired,
catsup or Chili sauce and black caviar
may be blended with the mayonnaise . . .
and about 5 anchovy fillets and strips of
smoked-pickled tongue (in place of ham)
added to the salad mixture.

CHOCOLATE PECAN CAKE

Vz cup shortening

2 cups brown sugar (packed in cup)

2 eggs

% cup hot water

3 tbsp. cocoa

2Vi cups sifted cake flour — or

2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 tsp. soda
Vi tsp. salt

% cup sour whipping cream (33 to 35%
butterfat)
% cup pecans (coarsely cut)
% tsp. vanilla

Cream shortening, add sugar gradually,
and cream until fluffy. Add whole eggs,
one at a time, beating thoroughly after
each one is added. Blend hot water and
cocoa together. Sift flour, soda and salt
together and add to creamed mixture
alternately with the sour cream and cocoa
mixture. Blend in cut-up nuts and
vanilla. Pour into a well greased and
floured 8x12 inch pan or two 8-inch round
layer pans. Bake 40 to 45 minutes for
the oblong cake or 35 minutes for layers
in a moderate oven 350°. Note: This cake
baked in an oblong pan will be only 1
inch thick. For a thicker or larger cake,
use Vz more of each ingredient.

FUDGE ICING

2 sq. unsweetened chocolate (2 oz.)

2 cups sugar

Vs tsp. salt

% cup milk

2 tbsp. light corn syrup

2 tbsp. butter

1 tsp. vanilla

FREE
SUMMER HOSPITALITY MENUS

Buffet Service is ideal for informal
summer entertaining, but perhaps you
hesitate to give a buffet supper or lunch-
eon because you are not quite sure just
how to go about it.

Betty Crocker's free leaflet on Buffet
Service will tell you everything you want
to know. With it Betty Crocker will send
you five menus (with recipes) for de-
lightful buffet lunches. Just fill out the
attached coupon.
Betty Crocker,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway, N. Y. C.

Please send me — without charge — your
Buffet Service leaflet and five summer-
time party menus.

Name

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State

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Cut up chocolate in saucepan. Add
sugar, salt, milk and corn syrup. Mix
thoroughly. Cook without stirring to
234' F., the temperature at which mixture
forms a soft ball when dropped into cold
water. Keep pan covered first 3 minutes
of cooking to prevent crystals forming on
sides of pan. Remove from heat. Add
butter. Let stand until lukewarm. Add
vanilla. Beat until thick enough to hold
its shape. If the icing seems to stiffen too
quickly, thin it a bit with cream. Care-
fully add only Vz tbsp. at a time — to avoid
making icing too runny to handle.

EUTTERSCOTCH COOKIES WITH
BURNT BUTTER ICING

% cup butter

1% cups brown sugar

2 eggs

21/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour

tsp. baking powder

tsp. soda

tsp. salt

cup sour cream

tsp. vanilla

cup walnuts

Cream butter, add sugar gradually, and
cream until fluffy. Blend in the well
beaten eggs. Sift flour, baking powder,
soda and salt together, and add to the
creamed mixture alternately with the
sour cream. Blend in the vanilla and
nuts. Chill until the dough is firm. Drop
by teaspoonfuls on lightly greased baking
sheet. (Leave a space of at least 2 inches
between cookies to allow for spreading.)
Bake 10 to 15 minutes in a moderately hot
oven, 400°. When cookies are cool, spread
with Burnt Butter Icing. This amount
will make 5 dozen cookies.

BURNT BUTTER ICING

6 tbsp. butter

lVa cups confectioners' sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

Hot Water

Melt butter — keeping it over heat until
it is golden brown. Blend in confectioners'
sugar. Add vanilla. Stir in about 4 tbsp.
hot water until icing is the right con-
sistency to spread smoothly. Amount:
Sufficient icing for about 30 cookies (2Vz
inches in diameter).

SEA FOOD SURPRISE

1 tbsp. gelatin
Vz cup cold water
1 bouillon cube

1 cup boiling water

2 tbsp. sugar
% tsp. salt

4 tbsp. lemon juice

1 can sardines

1 can shrimps (No. 1 size)

1 can crabmeat (7 oz. size)

Soak gelatin 5 minutes in cold water.
Pour boiling water over bouillon cube.
Stir until cube is dissolved. Pour bouillon
over soaked gelatin. Stir until dissolved.
Add sugar, salt and lemon juice and mix
well. While gelatin mixture is cooling,
grease a fish mold lightly and arrange
whole sardines down the back. Use small
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First Rule for Romance

[Continued from page 18]

to spice up your romance. I've seen it
work!

"Here's an example: A young featured
player, right here on the lot, called
up a girl he was very much inter-
ested in and asked her for a date. He
phoned on a Saturday morning and asked
the girl for a date that night. Well, the girl
told him she'd love to, but she had a head-
ache. The fellow, being smart, said he was
terribly sorry, and that he hoped she'd be
better soon, and that he'd call her the
next day to see how she was, and all that
sort of thing. He was very careful to
leave out any note of suspicion, or doubt,
he may have had regarding the headache.
That night, he was walking along Holly-
wood Boulevard and ran into the girl,
arm in arm with another man. Instead
of getting angry, or pretending not to see
the couple, he walked straight up to them,
and practically forced the girl to intro-
duce him to her escort. After a few
pleasant remarks, he said, keeping the
same pleasant tone, to the girl, 'Oh, by
the way, dear, is this the headache you

were telling me about?' Nodding, of
course, to the other man. The girl also
had a sense of humor. Without showing
her embarrassment in the slightest, she
replied, 'Oh, no, dear — you are!' And our
hero laughed this one off, too. And a
couple of months later he and the girl
were married. And they've been married
for over four years now. And very hap-
pily married, too.

"In this particular case, the man was
the one who was put to the test. But
this sort of thing works both ways. Here's
an example of the same thing, with the
girl on the short end:

"Two fairly well-known Hollywood
stars, whose names have been linked ro-
mantically for quite some time, came to
that stage in their romance that's bound
to come. They were seeing too much
of each other. They had run out of new
places to go, things to talk about, friends
to visit. The first luster had worn off,
and they both sensed it. Being smart,
they decided on a week's vacation from
each other. No hard-feelings, or any-

thing like that. Just a lovers' agreement,
designed to keep their romance from get-
ting stale. Each agreed that the other
should do what he pleased, go where he
pleased, with whomever he pleased, for
the full week. They agreed to meet at the
end of the week as formally as if they just
had been introduced.

"Well, they didn't even last the week
out without seeing each other. A sense of
humor, both ways, but particularly on
the part of the girl, revived their sagging
romance before their plan had hardly
gotten under way.

"The man got himself a date with an-
other prominent female star, and went
night-clubbing. The next morning, one of
the leading motion picture columnists
made an item of it in this column. Our
hei'o, reading the item, began to wonder
what his girl friend would think when
she read it. He felt sure she'd take it all
right, but, somehow, thought he should
do something about it. So, on an impulse,
he went to the girl friend's apartment.

"In front of her door was her copy of
the newspaper containing the item. Coyly,
he picked up the paper, clipped the item,
leaving the rest of the column intact,
and threw the clipping away. He then
rang the door-bell.

"She was surprised to see her love-
light, so soon, and early enough in the
morning to be bringing in the paper. But
she asked him to come in and have break-
fast with her. Over breakfast, our
heroine went through the paper. When
she came to the motion picture column,
with part of it cut out, she was momen-
tarily baffled; but, smelling a mouse, she
contained herself sufficiently not to show
it, she excused herself for a moment, tell-
ing the boy friend she was going out to
get her mail. She'd be right back, she
said, taking the newspaper with her.

"On her way down the hall, she filched
the newspaper of one of her neighbors,
substituting her own for it. In the neigh-
bor's paper she found the missing item.
It probably disturbed her a little, but,
knowing her as I do, I can picture her
chuckling over it. She tucked the paper
under her arm, got her mail, and returned
to her apartment.

"Pretending to be reading the motion
picture section for the first time, she read
the item aloud to the boy friend. He was
mystified, and he still has his moments of
wondering how it jumped back into the
paper.

"Our heroine's only remark about the
item was 'You should clip your publicity
items, dear, and save them. It's part of
your business, you know.' "

Just then, Gilbert Roland sauntered
down the hall, and Dottie hailed him.

"Say," she asked sharply, "what was all
that about, the other night?"

Gilbert looked puzzled.

"You know," she insisted. "At that
night club. Were you and your gang
trying to make something of Bob (Robert
Preston to you) and me being out to-
gether?"

Then it all seemed to come back to
Gilbert, "Oh, yeah," he blurted, as though
a flash-bulb had just gone off. "Yeah.
As a matter of fact, we were trying to

make something of it. Tell me, Dottie,
what were you and Bob so all-wrapped-
up-in, anyhow? There you sat, so ter-
ribly, terribly involved-looking. It
couldn't be love, could it?"

"Well, if you want to know," she re-
plied, coyly, "we were studying the fea-
tures on an animal-cracker!"

Turning to me, Dottie went on. "You
see," she said, "that's the safest ground.
Talk about animal-crackers, or horo-
scopes, or the funny cartoon on the menu.
Things that aren't personal, and you
won't get too involved. That's exactly
what we were doing. Studying an animal-
cracker. It still may not work; but at
least you're having fun as you go along.

"In other words, there's a lot to be
said for a prolonged sense of humor, if
you follow me. I don't know whether I
have it or not. But it's worth working
for. A good, sharp bolt of humor seems
to be necessary ever so often, to offset
tendencies toward jealousy, suspicion,
doubt. But, then, there are those long,
more or less calm in-between periods,
too, in a romance, which have to be ac-
counted for in one way or another. The
lighter and airier they're made, it seems
to me, the longer your romance will last.

J "The ability to laugh and joke seems
to come harder to men than to women.
Which is natural. After all, a man's re-
sponsibilities are greater. But most men
with the right handling, can be persuaded
to get some laughs along with their ro-
mances.

"And there's your woman's job. Or, at
least, a good part of it. She should be
not only amusing to herself, but should
take her boy friend's mind off himself
and his work, teach him how to be flip-
pant, how to get a kick out of simple,
silly, unimportant things.

"A real romance is a terribly important
thing and it is often hard for girls not
to show how seriously they regard it.
And here's my advice to them. Stop
reading the right books. Or, at least, don't
comment on them to the boy friend. And
don't see too many of the right plays, or
art exhibits, or go to too many concerts
or operas, or learn too much at lectures.
That is, don't comment on such things.
And don't learn too much about the boy
friend's work, either. Just enough so you
can build up his ego once in awhile, by
showing him what a great contribution
he's making to the world, without boring
him too much about things he already
knows, and wants to get away from. And
don't, for the love of Mike, tell him some-
thing about his job he doesn't know.

"Go heavy on subjects such as dancing,
swing-bands, radio shows, baseball, ten-
nis, golf, Confucius Say, picnics, canoeing,
movies, men's — not women's — clothes, the
tie he's wearing, his wristwatch, his
wonnnnn-derful car. Hit the love and
marriage angles every once in awhile.
But, only once in awhile. And be sure
you time it right. That is, be sure he's
in the right mood, or has a job, or some-
thing. Oh, yes — and don't forget — talk
about animal crackers. Talk plenty about
animal-crackers, and you'll find that fun
is the first rule for a successful romance."

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Tale of a Turbulent
Triangle

[Continued from page 32]

ming and shearing leaves plenty of good
solid footage for one of the most provoc-
ative triangles of all time. To make the
elisions more bearable and the drama
more intense, the Warner Brothers nom-
inated Bette Davis to play Henriette. Mr.
Boyer plays anchor man in the triangle,
with Miss Bette Davis as one of the emo-
tional disturbances and Barbara O'Neil
as the other.

As the Duchess of Praslin, this is Miss
O'Neil's second performance in a twelve-
month as Mr. Boyer's wife, the first hav-
ing displayed her as a part-time lunatic
in When Tomorrow Comes. In All This,
and Heaven Too, she is a psychotic Corsi-
can shrew, voluptuous, sultry and subject
to moods veering from the calmly mur-
derous to the violently suicidal.

A three-cornered tug-of-war among the
top players might have been the reason-
able expectation with such a set-up, with
the director acting as referee. But as
things worked out, each of the dominant
trio proved to be such a deep-dyed pro-
fessional actor that the prevailing tone
was one of almost hysterical good nature,
none of it forced or phony. Any of them
who could have stood any more fun would
have had to go to a hospital to recuperate.

Anatole Litvak, the directorial ringmas-
ter of the three -ring circus, refused, like
his players, to be daunted by exceptional
circumstances. A congenital cigarette-
man of championship calibre, Anatole is
a difficult person to read behind his clouds
of smoke. What may appear to be anger
may be purely hunger, since he forgets
his lunch unless somebody leads him to it
and puts the tools in his hands.

Along about the second lap of produc-
tion, after two unsuccessful takes of a
pivotal scene, Anatole was heard to break
out in his tone-deaf baritone:

"It's a hep-hep-heppy day!"

Under cover of the general laughter
an assistant director remarked to a car-
penter:

"A week behind schedule, the front
office on his tail, and the old man can still
sing. This picture is in, kid!"

HI Miss Davis, carrying an inordinately
heavy dramatic load on her slender
shoulders, was seized simultaneously with
attacks of mischief, laryngitis and the
French language, with the result that for
a few days she sounded like a slightly
balmy basso immigrant.

Bette's mischief broke out when an ad-
mirer presented Mr. Boyer with a new
make-up table. These things are ordi-
narily rough-and-ready, being con-
structed of an upright pipe mounted on
a tripod with castors. The pipe supports
a little shelf, an electrically lighted mir-
ror, and just enough space to accommo-
date a brush, comb, powder puff, a pack of
cigarettes and a deck of throat lozenges.

The Boyer gift, arriving while the star
was at lunch, was a solidly constructed
piece of furniture glittering with chro-

He's been miscast, he's been di-
vorced, he's had unwelcome headlines
in the press, but after nine years on
the screen he's still tops ! "how does
gable do it?" The secret of Clark
Gable's amazing success is revealed
in an exclusive article in the July
MOTION PICTURE Magazine.

In this same issue you'll find a beau-
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THI Dent. AS. LaCrosse. Wis,

mium like a modernistic hot dog stand.
It had two drawers with combination
locks, three hinged mirrors in ornate
metal frames, and neon lights like a bar
and grill.

Miss Davis, returning early from lunch,
immediately appropriated this gem for her
own use, moved all her set-side posses-
sions onto it, switched Boyer's nameplate
to her own broken-down table, and set
her plate up on the razzle-dazzle con-
traption. Then she tipped off everybody
in the company to tip off Boyer about the
misdemeanor she had committed.

When the Frenchman returned to work
he had heard the story from six sources.
Miss Davis was primping ostentatiously
when he passed her. He took no notice of
her or the table and hasn't mentioned the
larceny since. Miss Davis is wondering
whether this is a subtle form of inverted
French ribbing. If it is, she enjoys it as
much as she does the luxury of her elegant
new table.

fS Playing her first French role, Miss
Davis was suddenly conscience-
stricken to realize that she knew prac-
tically nothing about the language. So she
arranged to take lessons at odd moments
from a top-ranking teacher.

One night at dinner hour, while there
were still some scenes to be shot on the
day's schedule, Bette and Director Litvak
dropped in at the Blue Evening, a snack
bar in the shadow of the studio. Bette
Was wearing slacks and goggles and Litvak
was a stranger to the place.

They ordered a cocktail and a sandwich
apiece and had half finished their snack
when Bette suddenly remembered a fif-
teen-minute French lesson she had prom-
ised to wedge into the rest period.

Without pausing to explain why, she
jumped up and left the restaurant. Litvak
followed, thinking to drive her wherever
she was bound. The manager of the Blue
Evening went scurrying out the door after
them, giving the impression to passersby
that his place had just been knocked off by
a gunman and his moll.

The net take of Litvak and his blond
side-kick on this cafe job was $1.82 worth
of food and drink. The sum was contrib-
uted to the house cash register by philan-
thropic Warnerites eager to preserve the
good name of the studio. Litvak and Bette
do not realize yet that they are a couple
of delinquents.

1 A freak of the shooting schedule of
All This, and Heaven Too, set up a
big emotional scene between Bette and
Barbara O'Neil for nine o'clock in the
morning. Barbara was up on her lines and
began pitching them with true Corsican
venom at 9: 02, Pacific Time. Bette's sense
of humor overtook her again at this point
and she burst into laughter.

"This is too stark," she announced to the
assembled company. "Let's have a pot of
coffee, a cigarette, and a few laughs all
around. It will probably prevent homi-
cide later in the day. If we start off at this
pitch we'll be at each other's throats in
earnest by nightfall.

Rachel Field, the author, visited the
set twice and both times made a spe-

cial point of placing a laurel wreath on
the brow of Casey Robinson, the adapter
of her best-selling book. It will be Miss
Field's first work to reach the screen, al-
though a novel of hers, Time Out of Mind,
is resting comfortably in the literary vault
at Universal.

Miss Field was frankly astounded by the
courtesy and friendliness with which she
was greeted by the players, the producer
and the director.

"I had no idea," she confessed, "that
picture people would make me feel so
utterly at home. I had understood that if
I ventured a foot within the studio gates
my name would be Rachel Anathema."

With entire good grace Miss Field ac-
cepted the nomination of two players far
different physically from their counter-
parts in her book and in real life. The
Duke of Praslin, as the House of Peers
and the French police knew him, was tall
and his hair was the color of cornsilk.
Henry Field, as the family annals have it,
was a runt.

Yet it isn't every day that you can reach
out and get Charles Boyer to play a duke
for you, and if he happens to look more
like Napoleon Bonaparte than a Norse
god, what harm does that do to anybody?

Jeffrey Lynn is a good foot taller than
Henry Field, Henriette's eventual bride-
groom, but why be picayune about details
when Jeffrey makes such an earnest and
convincing young ecclesiastic?

Among the remainder of the cast there
is plenty of accurate type-casting: Mon-
tagu Love as a dour Corsican marshal,
the father of the duchess; Fritz Leiber as
a conspiratorial abbe, and Edward Field-
ing as a physician.

Barbara O'Neil conforms closest of all
the principals to the historic specifications.
As a great but erratic lady of the court
of Louis Philippe, she comports herself
in truly ducal style. As in two other re-
cent pictures, one with Boyer and one with
Edward G. Robinson, she is compelled, in
All This, and Heaven Too, to play many
of her scenes in stocking feet.

In the past Miss O 'Neil's height has been
a drawback to her. In the future, it seems
likely, pictures will be especially designed
for her, so that no incongruity may arise.

Bette Davis, of course, can be anybody
she wants to be, from Queen Elizabeth to
Queen Mab, with no dissenting votes from
any quarter. Amid a warehouseful of Em-
pire furniture and period costumes, you
can be assured that Miss Davis is running
up an early point score toward her period-
ical Academy Award.

The law of averages catches up with
everybody some time. Miss Davis may do
a bad picture some time. But All This, and
Heaven Too, advances her one more mile
in her orderly progression toward the
actors' Olympus.

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Buster Keaton
Jovce Compton

Franklin Pangboru

Alan Mowbray

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Hugh Herbert

William Farnuni

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One of the most famous novels..

One of the most famous plays...

V0%$

You'll fall in love all
over again with the
romantic heroine of
'Goodbye Mr. Chips'

The dashing star of
"Rebecca" hand-
somer than ever in an
exciting new role !

And now, it will be one of the most
famous pictures ever filmed!

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Presents

rifle and

STARRING

Prejudice

GARSON

'aufance

OLIVIER

with

MARY BOLAND • EDNA MAY OLIVER • MAUREEN
O'SULLIVAN -ANN RUTHERFORD • FRIEDA INESCORT

Screen Play by Aldous Huxley and Jane Murfin • Directed
by Robert Z. Leonard • Produced by Hunt Stromberg

JUL 11 MO

©ci

B 4 5095 4

W. H. "BUZZ" FAWCETT, JR., President
LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor

Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Mad at Maxims (George Murphy) by John R. Franchey 8

Love Begins at 40 (Charles Boyer) by Wilson Dodd 19

Inside Report on The Dictator by Charles Darnton 21

Touchdown for O'Brien (The Life ofKnuie Rockne) byCharlesDaggeft 22

Star of Many Talents (Ginger Rogers) by Duncan Underhill 26

The Sea Hawk by Jessie Henderson 28

Double Trouble (The Boys from Syracuse) by E. J. Smithson 30

Personal History of a Foreign Correspondent by Dennis Morteline 35

Looking Over the Field (Betty Field) by Wilbur Morse, Jr. 38

Who Is That Knocking? by Helen Louise Walker 42

PICTORIAL FEATURES

Close-Up of a Candidate (Brian Donlevy) 18

Hollywood's Family Album 24

Kibbee's Search for Beauty 27

Jane Withers Entertains the Club 32

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Duncan Underhill 6

The Show Goes On by The Editor II

A Double Header by Ann Vernon 12

Grandma's Gift to Hollywood by Betty Crocker 54

Movie Masquerade : 56

Movie Crossword 59

Paulette Goddard, next appearing
in Paramount's The Ghost Breakers

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc.. 1100 West Broadway. Louisville. Ky. Printed in U. S. A. Entered as second-class matter at the post
office at Louisville. Ky.. under the act of March 3, 1S79. with additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 1940 by Fawcett Publications, Inc. Eliott Odell, Advertising Director;
Roscoe K. Fawcett, Circulation Director; Ralph Daigh, Managing Editor; Al Allard, Art Director; E. J. Smithson, Western Manager. General offices, Fawcett Building, Greenwich,
Conn. Trademark registered in U. S. Patent Office. Subscription rate DO cents a year in United States and possessions; $1.00 in Canada; foreign subscriptions $1.50. Foreign sub-
scriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds, payable at Greenwich, Conn. Single issue five cents. Advertising forms close on the ISth of
third month preceding date of issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence concerning subscriptions to Fawcett Building. Greenwich, Conn.
Advertising offices. New York, 151)1 Broadway; Chicago, 300 N. Michigan Ave.; San Francisco. Simpson-Iteilly, 1014 Euss Building; Los Angeles, Simpson-Bcilly, Garfield Bldg.
Editorial offices, 1j01 Broadway, New York City; Hollywood office, 8DD5 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, California.

Bv DITNCAK UNDERBILL

B Master Mind De Mille, who never yet
did anything by half-measures and
who is running up one of the most crush-
ing expense accounts that ever broke the
heart of an adding machine, is now the
full-time employer of a Hollywood forest
ranger.

The guy is William O'Neil, an old-time
forest cruiser who has been properly
armed with police authority and can make
arrests in case of forest fires in the De
Mille studio, accidental or incendiary.

Ever since Cecil B. conceived the idea
of bringing an entire mountain to Mara-
thon Street, Hollywood, the site of his
current horse opera, his staff has been
worried about the dangers implicit in the
presence in the studio of fifteen acres of
rapidly drying fir trees transported from
the distant San Bernardino Mountains.

In their present condition the trees are
about as inflammable as cellulose film and
since the spontaneous- combustion season
is about to set in, O'Neil was selected from
a squad of applicants to become the first
forest ranger ever to go on patrol duty
within the corporate limits of a metro-
politan city.

He will stay on duty until the last
De Mille Indian has bitten the last De
Mille grain of dust.

jQ James Cagney, for whose screen
characterizations the expression
"tough guy" was specially invented, is a
pacifist by conviction and a peace-loving
guy in private life. For this reason he

Above, Anita Louise cuts her wedding
cake while bridegroom Buddy Adler is
more impressed with the bride. Right,
her beautiful satin and lace dress
changed for a white going-away ensem-
ble, Anita waves while Buddy smiles,
and they are off on the honeymoon

never attends the popular Hollywood
fights at the Legion Stadium.

But Mrs. Caroline Cagney, mother of
Jim and four other remarkable Cagneys,
seldom misses the Legion bouts or any
other representative fisticuffs that may be
afoot in the neighborhood.

Mrs. Cagney's most frequent companion
at the ringside is Harvey Perry, a former
boxer turned actor who works as a stunt
double for Cagney and a few other movie
folk of his approximate weight and
stature.

Customarily the two bet dimes on the
bouts, sometimes as much as a dollar, but
it's the bouts themselves and not the loot
from the wagers that attract the matriarch
of the Cagneys.

On a recent Friday two tough middle-
weights kept punching after the bell had
rung terminating the round. The referee
couldn't part them. A couple of seconds
charged into the ring. The referee got
slugged. A couple of managers and swipes
climbed in, too, until in all there were nine
people in the ring throwing punches.

Mrs. Cagney, standing in the third row
to get a better view of the proceedings,
confessed to Perry when the melee was at
its height:

"You know, I've always loved a street
fight."

J| Normally Jackie Cooper is the posses-
sor of a goodly arsenal of pistols, rifles
and associated hardware. But recently
his gun-room has taken on an increasingly
naked appearance.

"Girl-crazy," a friend volunteered.
"Every time he runs over his allowance
he hocks a gun to take some doll out

stepping. If this keeps up he's gonna be
practically defenseless."

9 Janice Logan is going to France for

one of two reasons, thus ending one

of the oddest Hollywood careers to date.

The two possible reasons for her depar-
ture, each of which she denies and affirms
alternately and with vehemence, are (1)
to marry a French newspaperman and
(2) to drive an ambulance.

Daughter of a wealthy Chicago broker,
graduate of Sarah Lawrence College at
Bronxville, N. Y., cultured, intelligent,
and a talented actress, Janice, it is to be
feared, just didn't really care about a
career she invested a lot of years and
effort in and then abandoned when it was
beginning to bear fruit, after her lead in
Doctor Cyclops.

Her favorite explanation of herself to
new acquaintances was, "I don't wish to
appear pedantic, but I'm not a Hollywood
jazz-baby."

The reason she left Selznick-Inter-
national Pictures was that she "joined up
to play Scarlett and found six other
Scarletts bumming around the corridors."

Getting her release, she went to Para-
mount, posed for millions of leg-art
pictures, got herself elected "the world's
best-undressed woman" and then retired
as the public began to acclaim her in her
latest and last film.

Interviewers she drove pleasantly mad.
Her home was a tiny, almost bare apart-
ment in an unfashionable neighborhood.
This was the only place she would receive
the beagles of the press. Every reporter
who visited her came away with the feel-
ing that he had just met the fourth dimen-
sion and been knocked out in one round.

Miss Logan's afternoon dress, in which
she received, was a flannel bathrobe. Her
chaise-longue was an out-size couch oc-
[Continued on page 13]

BOB«Opt

i \

lltVBR

A Paramount Picture with

! W

RICHARD CARLSON • PAUL LUKAS
ANTHONY QUINN • WILLIE BEST

Directed by GEORGE MARSHALL • Screen Play by Walter Deteon • Based on a Play by Paul Dickey and Charles W. Goddard

K George Murphy hates plati
tudes. He loathes axioms. He
abominates bromides. And he'll
fight at the drop of an adage. .

He was in martial mood, in
deed, when your reporter
drew up alongside of him
the other day at one of
the Manhattan bright
spots. His Irish was up
for fair.

"For longer than I
want to remember, I
have been looking be-
fore leaping and get-
ting a knot on my head
for my trouble; putting
my best foot forward and
getting it stepped upon;
hitching my wagon to a
star only to have the little
astroid turn comet overnight
and come plummeting to
earth," snarled the dancing
dervish of The Ziegfeld Girl and
Public Deb Number One.

"Take for instance the maxim:
'Nothing planned, nothing achieved.'
That's a honey for you. Never
fails." Mr. Murphy fairly growled.
"Well, the plain truth is that I
planned to become a great mining
engineer, planned and worked at
it for years. After getting a degree
from Sheffield School of Science at
Yale, I wound up, to my eternal
astonishment, as a hoofer!"

We were about to ask "How
come?" when we recollected the
adage, "Silence is golden." Mr.
Murphy practically read our
thoughts.

"What changed me from an expert
on Euclidian geometry," he told us,
"was a churlish little avalanche of
anthracite, but maybe I ought to
begin at the beginning."

He sighed.

Inheriting a flair for clairvoyance
(from both sides) we concluded
that Mr. Murphy was not deliriously
happy. To show him that we were
back of him one hundred percent
we dropped a sympathetic: "The
greater the obstacle, the more glory
in overcoming it."

Our host shuddered, gulped hard,
glared at us, set his jaw and counted
ten. After that he scampered
through the high spots of his life.

New Haven gave him to the world
on a Fourth of July, and his sire,
Michael Charles Murphy, the fam-
ous Olympic coach and physical
director at Yale, read in the event
a great omen. At last the Murphys
were getting around to producing
a great orator, maybe even a United
States senator. Wasn't it true that
anyone born on the Fourth of July
had the tongue of a serpent, wise
and winning?

"I repaid my father's confidence
in me by showing a marked dislike
both for oratory and politics. My
single course in public speaking was
a fiasco, which left the poor teacher
numb with agony."

Mad

At Maxims

George Murphy heard about listening
to the words of the wise. He tried to
obey all of the maxims. Now the only
one he practises is "Be sure you're
right, then go ahead the other way

By JOHN R. FRANCHEY

'■'0@r- *wfc

There was no underprivileged-
boyhood phase of his life, Mr.
Murphy swore sadly, almost as
if he wished there had been.
Yale, ever grateful, paid his
father anything but sweat-
shop wages, he confessed.
Thanks to which young
George romped through
three nice preparatory
schools, Newton at Phila-
delphia, Pawling, and,
finally, Peddie Insti-
tute. It was only natu-
ral that he wind up at
Yale.

" 'Like father, like son,'
everybody was saying,
when I enrolled. "This
young Murphy will be an
assassin on the football field;
he'll shatter track records
right and left, and he'll be
the hottest thing in inter-col-
legiate baseball.'

"Even the coaches beamed as
I came out for the different
sports. 'A chip off the old block —
Mike Murphy's boy.'

"Well, I disillusioned them all
in good time. I made no
football ail-Americans,
broke no track records,
and never quickened the
pulse of a major league
baseball scout, although
I competed in all these
sports and basketball to
boot. I salvaged some of
my pride by bucking the Engi-
neering School which is not
exactly a lark and winding up
with a diploma and a kit full of
wonderful project-blueprints I
had dreamed up.

"Fresh out of school, I paid
homage to that saying about great
oaks and little acorns. I would
learn engineering from the
ground floor up. So I became
a coal miner just so I could see
for myself what was what down
in the nether regions."

It was a lonesome life and a
gruelling life, as Master George
Murphy soon discovered. Mostly
the miners were Poles who kept
to themselves and knew only a
couple of English words — "up"
and "down."

" 'Into each life rain must fall,'
so the wise men tell us," Mr.
Murphy flipped acidly, "but the
eternal values of this homely
bromide had to be impressed on
my mind with a bang."

It seems that he, with a couple
of his helpmates, had just
climbed aboard that funny little
car that hauled them up the 400-

George Murphy, who started to
be an engineer but who be-
came a successful dancer, with
Eleanor Powell who appears op-
posite him in The Ziegfeld Girl

New Screen Triumph Wins
Praise from Hollywood Stars .

with

Sir Cedric Hardwicke • Freddie Bartholomew • Jimmy Lydon
Josephine Hutchinson • Billy Halop » Polly Moran ♦ Hughie Green

Ernest Cossart • Alec Craig * Gale Storm

Produced by GENE TOWNE and GRAHAM BAKER • Directed by ROBERT STEVENSON .

Adaptation and Screen Play by Walter Ferris & Frank Cavett and Gene Towne & Graham Baker
Additional Dialogue by Robert Stevenson 'Distributed by RKO Radio Pictures

"Exciting! Thrilling! This
famous classic is at last
brought to the screen "in
° way that will make you
catch your breath. I loved
every minute of if."

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foot-shaft. Mr. Murphy was lost in medi-
tation, concerning the joys of learning
mining from the ground up, when a cable
snapped. The little cart dropped with a
plunk to the bottom, coaxing a modest
avalanche after it. George and his chums
were buried under several inches of black
diamonds.

When Good Samaritans pried the boys
loose and hauled them to the surface, they
■were a sorry lot, indeed. Some were
rushed to a hospital, including our hero.
He did a right-good trick at the infirmary
and emerged cured of his mania for min-
ing. He forgave Life promptly for this
shoving around. After all, "Nothing ven-
tured, nothing gained."

"I scouted around for another job. No
dice. Finally someone murmured, 'Go
West, young man,' and, of course, I did.
At least as far as Detroit where I became
connected with the automobile industry.
I got a job installing rear axles in Paige
automobiles. They don't make them any-
more, and it's quite possible that the
Murphy touch helped speed these noble
cars to their rest."

§S George Murphy regards Detroit as an
extra-special city. He wishes it long
life, huge W.P.A. grants (if that's what the
good citizens want) and immunity to
plague and pestilence. He's even
cheering for the poor Detroit Tigers
who are in third place at this writing.
Why all this affection for Detroit? Well,
Detroit is where he met Juliette Johnson.

And Juliette Johnson has been Mrs. George
Murphy for fourteen years. It might have
been sixteen years if it weren't for an axiom.

When he first met Juliette she was a
Detroit debbie whose conversation he
found magnetic and whose dancing he still
regards as "out-of-the-world." Both were
young and sort of window-shopping.
"Marry in haste, repent at leisure," the
bromide reads. Both took heed.

George kept his shop, as prescribed by
Ben Franklin, but his shop did not keep
him. Instead, as already hinted, Murphy's
shop collapsed like a tired souffle. He
chugged back East. All the way to New
York he kept thinking of Juliette. By the
time he had reached Grand Central Sta-
tion he had interpreted the signs: he was
in the throes of love, the real thing.

"Of course, you've heard that 'all the
world loves a lover,' " Mr. Murphy wanted
us to bear witness. "Nothing could be
farther from the truth! I remember pound-
ing the streets of Manhattan looking for
honest labor until my friends asked if I
were in training for the Olympics or
trying to lose weight. 'It's darkest just
before dawn,' they tell us. It isn't. It
stayed dark for me for a month of Sun-
days. In due time I landed on Wall
Street. Customer's man did you say? A
thousand times no! Track man Murphy
became a runner in the financial district,
lugging from one brokerage house to the
other fortunes in securities. A mere mes-
senger boy."

[Continued on page 62]

After several years away from the screen, Frances Farmer returns in a highly
romantic role opposite Jon Hall in Pago-Pago. In this scene the island lovers
discover that a villain's greed has caused injury to their friend (Rudy Robles) who
was forced to dive for pearls in dangerous waters, and that started the trouble

The Show Goes On

By THE EDITOR

■ It all started with a lively discussion
of human vagaries. Our distinguished

managing editor confessed, in a rush of
confidence, that from earliest boyhood he
has had an all but uncontrollable impulse
to look into other people's medicine cab-
inets. He said that, alarmed at the allure
that other people's bottles and pill -boxes
had for him, he had made a thorough
canvass of all of his friends. He discovered
that ALL of them felt exactly the same
way about medicine cabinets belonging to
other people.

"Of course, my friends do not yield to
this temptation," explained our manag-
ing editor carefully, "And neither do I.
But I believe that a desire to look in other
people's medicine shelves is a universal
human impulse . . . just like the longing
that even the most honorable of citizens
have, occasionally, to read other people's
mail."

We couldn't do much about the med-
icine cabinet problem, but the letters were
a different matter. We appealed to
Jeanette MacDonald. "How about letting
us read your personal mail AND your
answers?" we asked her. The result is a
fascinating story. In next month's Holly-
wood Magazine you will have a chance to
release those suppressed desires about
other people's letters, look with us over
Jeanette MacDonald's shoulder, see how
she answers friends and fans, how she
sends out bids for cocktail parties, how
her "thank-you" notes are phrased, how
she signs her name.

! Gale Page loves to eat. She is par-
ticularly fond of what the Page family
.calls "spreads." These are the lovely little
meals that follow a swim in the after-
noon, a trip to the theatre at night.
"Spreads" spread it on, Miss Page dis-
covered to her sorrow. Between the time
she finished her part in Four Wives and
started to work in The Life of Knute
Rockne, she decided to reduce. And re-
duce she did . . . thirty pounds! It is
a rather harrowing tale, but not without
its comic aspects. If you want her method,
and a report on how she feels about diets
today, see next month's issue.

■ At this writing, there is some doubt
that Vivien Leigh and Lawrence

Olivier will continue their tour in Romeo
and Juliet. The British consul has in-
formed Olivier that he may be re-called
to England. If, however, the British
government continues its orders to its
actors to stay in this country, many com-
munities will have a chance to see these
two extraordinarily handsome people in
a very charmingly mounted production of
the great love story. It is worth an espe-
cial effort, if Romeo and Juliet comes your
way, because Olivier is quite different in
this part than in any you have seen him
do on the screen, and Vivien Leigh is one
of the most beautiful of all of the Juliets.

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TAKES THE ODOR OUT OF PERSPIRATION

Joyce Compton, featured in Hal Roach's Turnabout,
shows how to make hair an effective part of a hat

A Double Header

By ANN VERNON

■ When your hat and your hair do a
sister act, you want to be certain that
you can be proud of both of them.

Pull your curls up through a horse-
hair halo to form a rosette, twist your
bangs into a fold of your turban. Smooth
them over your forehead in a lacy fringe
that takes the place of a veil with that
big off-the-face hat; or make them look
a part of your old-fashioned bonnet (and
a frame for your face) by curling them
softly high off the fore-
head. . . . Whichever way

you wear them, take care
that your bangs, curls
and page-boy locks
gleam with health and
with cleanliness. They're
too much a part of your
costume to neglect — and
you don't want that
brand new hat to look
dowdy just because your
hair isn't up to par!

You can be pretty sure
that all of those high sal-

A COOL SUGGESTION

Write Ann Vernon for help
with your summer beauty
problems. She will be glad to
tell you what to do about run-
ny make-up, dried out hair, or
that hot, moist feeling. Send
your photograph or description
if you'd like a new hairstyle
and make-up analysis. Enclose
a stamped, self-addressed en-
velope for reply, and address
Ann Vernon, Beauty Editor,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine, 1501
Broadway, New York City.

aried Hollywood gals keep their hair look-
ing lovely, otherwise it wouldn't photo-
graph so well. They have at least one
shampoo a week, more when they're
working on pictures. Which should
squelch once and for all the ugly rumor
that it's harmful to wash your hair often!
All of you want to have hair as lovely
as your favorite movie stars' (I know be-
cause you've written telling me so) but
you won't follow the leaders and do what
they do!

A mild shampoo won't

hurt your hair even if
you use it every day. So
be smart and choose one
that will be really kind
to your hair — and use it
whenever your brush
shows the first bit of grey
fuzz that says "this hair
isn't quite clean!" Write
me for the name of a
new, quick foaming
shampoo that lubricates
the hair (to prevent that

dried-out, fly-away, right-after-a-sham-
poo look) at the same time it cleanses.
It is companion to a deservedly popular
oil-type shampoo of the non-lathering
kind. Both clean the hair thoroughly;
both leave it soft as silk. The advantage
to the new one is that it is more econom-
ical with your time, because it is so quick
acting, with your purse, because a little
of the foaming shampoo goes a long, long
way. (If your hair is extremely dry,
though, stick to the non-lathering type,
for its superior lubricating qualities.) The
two shampoos rinse out of the hair
quickly, completely, taking all dirt and
loose dandruff flecks with them. Your
hair will shine like a carnival after it's
washed! There's a ten-cent size of each.

Often in the summertime, the heat of
the sun will tend to dry out the top hair
and give it a sun-bleached, straw-like
look. You can avoid that by using bril-
liantine or an oily hair dressing between
lubricating shampoos. And by brushing
your hair up and down, back and forward,
five minutes at night, five in the morning.
That stimulates the oil glands to produce
the lubricant your hair needs, and dis-
tributes any available oil evenly.

Many's the time, don't I know it, you'll
be skipping that morning date with your
hairbrush just because you're in a rush.
I could say you might get up five minutes
earlier — but instead I'll tell you about a
brush and comb combination just made
to be carried in your purse, and used
when you do have the time! Lately, the
manufacturer has been making the bristles
of that wonderful new Exton, so you know
they're sturdy enough for just about the
thickest head of hair! I use mine instead
of a comb to brush my hair into place
whenever I take off a hat — it gives each
curl such a polished, fresh-from-the-
beauty-shop look! And it's really amazing
how those bristles get down to the scalp
to give it an invigorating work-out! Your
head will feel pretty good after you've
used the combination brush and comb for
five minutes — and your hair will look even
nicer! A dollar buys it, complete with
transparent plastic carrying case (to
match the comb-brush itself).

H It goes without saying that you'll need
a permanent before the summer is
over — so why put it off any longer? Every
day you delay means more time wasted
doing up straggly ends — after your swim,
your shower, before a date on a muggy
night. And you don't have to wait for a
cool day before having your wave, be-
cause I can tell you about one that is
blessedly comfortable! And it's quick, too,
because the curlers are heated to the cor-
rect temperature for your hair before ever
they're put on your head. That means you
don't have to sit patiently while your hair
heats up, then cools off — with this system,
it's cooling off the whole time!

Other nice features about this wave are
the sanitary supplies — a sealed package
contains all the necessities for the perma-
nent, just enough to do your hair and no
one else's! The scalp protectors (in the
sealed box) are a specially patented kind,
made thinner so that the operator can
wave your hair closer to the head — and

incidentally give you a wave that will last
longer. I had one of these waves not so
long ago, and I do want to tell you my
hair has never looked better. It was soft,
and shining, and beautifully curly — and
it's holding that curl, too! Name, please?
Let me remind you about some fine bob
pins you shouldn't be without. They come
in mighty handy when you want to make
end curls, or do up your bangs at night.
And of course they're invaluable for pin-
ning your hair into place during the day.
They won't show in your hair because
they have a special textured finish
that absorbs light without reflecting it!
Match the pins to the shade of your hair,
in either long or short, curved or straight
varieties. Twenty-four cost ten cents.

■ You won't forget, will you, that the
face beneath your bonnet or turban
is every bit as important as your hair.
Take care that your nose doesn't shine,
that your lipstick isn't smudged, and that
its color doesn't clash with the shade of
your hat. That can spoil the whole effect!
Right now I want to tell you about some
perfectly swell new cosmetics put out by
a well known French perfumer. His dust-
ing powder, colognes and bath prepara-
tions of all kinds are so popular that
you've undoubtedly used and loved them.
Now you can have a velvety face powder,
a long lasting rouge and a creamy lip-
stick all delicately scented to match! The
huge boudoir box of powder is something
to dream about. It would be a good value

at $1.50, but it costs about half that — only
seventy-nine cents. The powder itself is
of that extra-fine silk-sifted variety, per -
feet for hot summer days when you want
only the lightest kind of make-up. It
comes in all the necessary shades, from
light to dark, in both the rachel and rosy
tones, but there are not so many you'll
get all confused trying to decide which is
right for you. Rachel Moderne is a per-
fectly grand shade to wear now, with all
your summer clothes and with your sun-
tan. The rouge and lipstick, of the finest
smooth spreading quality, come in light,
medium and dark shades, with a heavenly
Wild Rose pink that should be a sensation
on anyone's lips! Each costs forty-nine
cents, and very smart they look in their
summery green and cream plastic con-
tainers. I'll be glad to tell you more about
these exciting new cosmetics, and to help
you select your perfect shades.

Write me before August 15th, please,
if you would like the names of any of the
products mentioned in this article. Be
sureto enclose a stamped (U.S. postage),
self-addressed envelope for my reply,
and address your letter to Ann Vernon,
Beauty Editor, HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway, New York City.

Holly wood Newsreel

[Continued from page 6]

cupied by Miss Logan, a few dozen
oranges — the only food she bothered with
— and a few newspapers. Throughout her
interviews she kept a portable radio on
her lap, tuned up so that most of what
she said, if sensible, was not intelligible.
The Hollywood consensus is that the
departed Miss Logan, if she was in earnest,
was one of the eeriest glamour girls ever,
and that if she was kidding, she did a
masterful job of it.

| Hedy Lamarr turns up this month as
chief ballyhoo artist for her chum
from the old country Greta Keller, singer
of Viennese songs, who opens at a Holly-
wood supper club after winning a follow-
ing in New York.

Hedy and Greta had some brief profes-
sional experience together in Budapest
and Hedy, as the earlier arrival in Holly-
wood, is running out the plush carpets and
prodding the wealthy natives to unwind
their wallets and buy champagne for
Greta's run at the local joint.

Another Keller booster is Marlene
Dietrich, who was a schoolmate of Frau-
lein Keller in Germany. What with all
the double-header furore these two im-
ported glamour-mongers, Hedy and Mar-
lene, have stirred up, Greta had better be
good.

say Lovely Women
of New Camay !

• "New Camay is so mild," writes Mrs. G. D.
Lawrence, Bronxville, N. Y. "A perfect beauty
soap to belp keep my skin soft and radiant."

A BEAUTY soap so different, so wonderful
that women everywhere are thrilled
so wonderful that thousands are switch-
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Let new Camay help you, as it is helping
other women, to look your loveliest. Put its
gentle cleansing to work for you . . . helping
you in your search for a lovelier skin!

says Mrs. T.
care of my

WTO A

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o wonderfu Uy m.ld J* it re. T marvelous new fra-
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BE MFUBAL !

■fc In make-up, as in all things, it is
best to "Be Yourself ... Be Natural". Use
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magically from orange in the stick to the
one shade of red your skin-coloring
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•k Your Tangee lips will be smoother
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there is no grease-paint in Tangee... its
pure cream base ends that "painted
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M For complete make-up harmony
useTangee Face Powder and Tangee Rouge,
compact or creme, as well. Then you'll

"pINQTC

"WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS LIPSTICK"

SEND FOR COM PLETE

MAKE-UP KIT

The George W. Luft Co., 417 Fifth
Ave., New York City. . .Please rush
"Miracle Make-up Kit" of sample Tangee Lipsticks and
Rouge in both Natural and Theatrical Red Shades. Also
Pace Powder. I enclose 10# (stamps or coin). (150 in
Canada.)

Check Shade of Powder Desired:

D Peach □ Light Rachel □ Flesh

D Rachel D Dark Rachel D Tan

Name ,

City-

■ Ida Lupino, a veteran collector of
absent-minded professor stories, finds
that she is Absent-Minded Professor for
1940, or until successfully challenged.

Lounging with a novel in the studio of
her Brentwood home she was distracted
from time to time by a smell of smoke.

When the fumes became insufferable,
she rang for a servant and announced,
"Something's burning around here. I'm
sure of it."

"Madame is burning," the maid an-
nounced placidly, and then with great
efficiency doused with mineral water a
few of the quilted squares in Ida's favorite
dressing gown, which her forgotten cig-
arette had ignited.

"The moral of this thing," Miss Lupino
deduced, "is, 'Don't fiddle with fiction
while robe burns.' "

] Some of the stuffier formalities of
studio routine have been ventilated
again by Miss Rosalind Russell, an expert
at the game.

Loaned out by her home studio to star
on a lot where she had never previously
worked, she was required to fill out the
standard biography blank.

With a few necessary expurgations, it
went like this:

Q. How many hours sleep do you need
to keep fit?

A. Fit for what?

Q. What is your favorite radio pro-
gram?

A. Presidential election returns.

Q. What are your favorite sports?

A. I dive like a demon.

Q. How do you keep in condition?

A. Two packs a day.

Q. Do you perform any household
duties, such as budgeting, preparing
menus, or supervising the staff?

A. I run the joint.

Q. What is your preference in clothes?

A. Expensive.

Q. Of whom does your family consist?

A. Three brothers and three sisters.
I'm in the middle; the ham in the sandwich.

Q. Have you any beauty secrets?
A. But they're secrets.

Q. What do you do on the set between
scenes?

A. Have convulsions at my own jokes.

Q. What do you first notice about a
person of your own or the opposite sex?

A. This question is put together wrong.

Q. At school and college what were
your favorite subjects?

A. Week-ends.

Q. Is there anything else about your-
self of interest?
A. Yea, bo!

Fazecctt photo by Rhodes

Bette Davis has been seen frequently with Bob Taplinger, who is in charge of
publicity on the west coast for Warner Brothers' Studios. They vacationed at the
same time recently in Honolulu, and here are seen dining in Hollywood at Ciro's

I A sequence in Northwest Mounted
Police requires Madeleine Carroll to
gallop across the plains bearing soup to a
dying man.

On the first take she looked like a
veritable Florence Nightingale of the
North as she reined her steed, unslung her
soup jug and bent benevolently beside her
patient.

But an instant later she leaped in the
air, screamed like a wounded Comanche
and spilled soup and jug all over the
recumbent form of the stricken man.

Nothing important. She had merely sat
on her spurs.

| Eddie Quillan, Robert Paige and
Frank Jenks, in Dancing on a Dime,
are assigned to impersonate three down-
and-out young actors temporarily lodged
in the historic Garrick Theatre in New
York and living on stale doughnuts pan-
handled from a bakery.

The trio spent a morning on the dough-
nut scene, each munching six or seven of
the indigestible quoits before Director
Joe Santley called lunch. By that time
they were too stuffed to tolerate the
thought of food, and said so.

"Still," Quillan philosophized, "this is
the only studio in town where you get a
thousand bucks a week and board."

■ Edna May Oliver, upon first meeting
Gia Kent, hired to play the part of
Miss Oliver's daughter in Pride and Preju-
dice, exclaimed, "What is this — a mirror
shot?"

Gracie Allen arrives in Omaha for her
"self-nominating" convention for the
presidency of the United States with
George Burns who seems confident that
he is to be the nation's first gentleman

Miss Kent, whose name is an anagram
of G(ertrude) Aitken, the one she was
born with, appears to have a future In
films not only because of her remarkable
resemblance to Edna May but because
she has brains, talent and a mind of her
own.

A gold miner's daughter, she went East
to Oberlin College in Ohio, was graduated
at twenty with a Phi Beta Kappa key and
then, because it seemed a pleasant thing
to do, went to Honolulu and became a
stenographer in the offices of a lumber
company.

In the role of Ann de Bourgh in Pride
and Prejudice, her performance created
such a stir in the cutting room that Gia
was called back after the picture was
finished. Not for retakes but for addi-
tional close-ups to fatten up her part.

Becoming well acquainted with the
newcomer during the production period,
Miss Oliver remarked to her on the last
shooting day:

"If I didn't know my own past, I'd say
you were it."

9 Garson Kanin, boy director of My
Favorite Wife and four other hit pic-
tures, is alternately elated and depressed
by what movies are doing to him and he to
them.

Garson and a camera crew were out
shooting some background scenes the
other day when passers-by were attracted
to the fop of the outfit, a Beau Brummell

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There is also a LIQUID NONSPI — at
drug and department stores.

One of the gayest parties of the season was given by Margaret Ettinger and Helen
Ferguson at the Brown Derby for Ralph Daigh, managing editor of all Fawcett
Publications during his trip to Hollywood. Left to right, Arleen Whalen, Mr.
Daigh who seems to be crossing his heart about something, Louella Parsons, Ida

Lupino and Basil Rathbone

of an assistant cameraman named Bernie
Guffey.

"Chase the spectators away," Kanin
directed an assistant. "And if that doesn't
work, chase Bernie away. We have to get
some work done."

Guffey, fastidious about his costumes at
all times, is described variously by his
associates as looking as fast as a race track
tout and as sharp as jail house coffee.
His piece de resistance on this day was a
very swift-looking hunter's hat that
flopped about his pleasant features and
made him look like a millionaire sports-
man on the loose.

Kanin found out where the hat was
bought and at the luncheon break sent a
boy all the way to Westwood Village to
buy twelve more just like it, in assorted
sizes, enough to outfit the whole troupe.

Since then Kanin has given away per-
haps a dozen more of the trick kellys,
with the result that they are now known
around Hollywood as Kanin hats. But
Kanin still doesn't look as pretty as Bernie.

The other small matter agitating the
youthful director is that he is doomed to
die any minute.

His next directing assignment is The
Other Man, starring Carole Lombard and
Charles Laughton. One of the pivotal
scenes of this well-known story is laid
in an Italian restaurant.

A realist at all times, Kanin is per-
mitting himself to be dragged around to do
research in Italian restaurants from end
to end of Los Angeles County.

"You can't just go in and do research
around a guy's joint," he complains. "So
every night I have a little antipasto,

ravioli, spaghetti, pasta fagiole and chicken
cacciatore, with maybe a pear and some
spumoni or zabaglione. So I'm as good
as dead already and the picture isn't
even started."

| Miss Jean Parker, one of America's
foremost demonstrators of what it
takes to fill a bathing suit, was posing at
the Laemmle estate for some springboard
art.

As the cameraman made his set-up for
the first shot, a lazy, low-flying bird
hypnotized Jean with its graceful ap-
proach to the pool. When the photog-
rapher signalled Jean to make her dive
she took one of the most sensational belly-
whoppers in aquatic history, knocking
herself out and splashing the camera
and six bystanders.

Work was resumed a few days later
when the camera — and Miss Parker —
were back in working order.

I In her leftover time from being Brig-
ham Young's favorite wife in the Fox
immortalization of the great American
parent, Mary Astor tries to keep her social
life on a nicely balanced plane.

But sometimes it gets disarranged, since
Miss Astor's husband, Manuel Del Campo,
is a harassed studio worker and she her-
self is called upon by the Brigham Young
script to endure all the pictorial hazards
of fire, flood, riot, desert, swamp, jungle
and love.

Miss Pamela Frankau, the distinguished
English author, arrived in town. Her path
crossed that of the Del Campos, who, in~

stantly charmed, arranged a cocktail
party for her.

Six days after the party Miss Astor
received the original and Miss Frankau
a copy of a letter from John Van Druten in
London introducing Miss Frankau to Miss
Astor and commending her to Miss Astor's
social sponsorship.

Miss Frankau is delighted but still a bit
stunned by the swiftness of the social pace
in Hollywood, where the party's over
before it's even scheduled to start.

| The Noah Beerys, Jr. and Sr. are
working at the Republic studio in
action pictures entitled, respectively, The
Carson City Kid and JRed Ryder.

On the same day, recently, their scripts
called for them to get punched on the
chin and do a reverse somersault.

At the end of the rigorous session, the
two Noahs went into the production office
and complained mildly about the rough
treatment they were getting.

"What are you beefing about?" they
were asked. "This is a tough studio. Send
Wallace over and we'll see that he gets
slugged too."

| Some of the movie companies are con-
sidering moving underground to
escape the nuisance of low-flying planes
that bust up sound sequences and create
havoc in the budget department.

Six of the largest airplane factories are
in Los Angeles County, all working at

top speed on war and transport orders.
Necessarily there is a lot of test-flying
going on at all times in addition to the
normal sky traffic.

The standard air signal for "Stay away!"
is a stationary orange balloon 100 yards
above the spot to be stayed away from.
Until now the studios have refrained from
using the balloons because they are pretty
strong language, aeronautically speaking,
approximately equivalent to "Beat it!"
or "Scram!" on land.

But lately the interruptions have been
so frequent and costly that most of the
major companies have resorted to flying
the orange ballons, each attached to a
cable flying a string of orange pennons.
Army and Navy and airline pilots know
what the ballons mean and respect them.

But hordes of student- and sportsmen-

MONTH

Don't

miss the

announcement of

the prize winners in the Silly-Dilly

Contest. A full list of the clever

peopl

3 who are

getting the hand-

some

prizes will be printed in

September He

llywood. On the

stands

August

10.

pilots, who haven't yet memorized all the
rules in the book, have been racing from
studio to studio to look at the pretty
orange spheres and guess what they're all
about.

J Norman the Numerologist, the nutty
fruit man who tells the fortunes and
futures of the stars and producers while
selling them grapefruit, oranges and tan-
gerines, had better consult his astronom-
ical algebra before it backfires on him
again.

While Norman was wheeling his hand-
some truck from studio to studio he
conceived, with the aid of his astral
mathematics, a wonderful idea for a
movie.

To a few dozen confidants on the movie
lots he blurted:

"The numbers told me. A great his-
torical movie should be made about
wounded soldiers. I can sit down and
write it in ten minutes if I have the time.
It's about the Order of the Purple Heart,
founded by George Washington and re-
vived after the World War. I'm going to
tell Jack Warner and Zanuck and Sam
Goldwyn and make some dough for my-
self. We'll beat The Fighting Sixty-ninth
at the box office because we'll have more
wars."

Norman went racing over to the Warner
studio and breathlessly unfolded his idea,
which production officials agreed had
merit.

[Continued on page 63]

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Close -Up

of a Candidate

.„„ »oerches bursting Ir«»

With rampniS" sp " ,„vv'« «w«

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eteeUonr.^ » ^»|me,y M„aUty

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McGinty, the ladies' choice

■ Soldiers returned from the mud and
blood of the battlefield will tell you,
if they'll talk about it at all, that in the
anguishing hours before an assault, a man
facing the rawest of realities will modify
most of his old concepts, reconstruct his
notion of vital values.

Armies in array change not only the
geography books of men but also their
doctrines of daily conduct.

War has left an indelible imprint on
Charles Boyer, the first actor to return
to Hollywood from the arena where
Europe's latest tragedy is being unraveled.

Charles Boyer was in no battle. He

Charles Boyer discusses the
differences of love at the
ages of twenty and thirty,
and concludes that forty has
I he best of all the chances

By WILSON BOD B

Charles Boyer and his wife, Pat Paterson,
with his mother just after her arrival
from France just a few weeks ago

was forced to burrow for safety in no
bombed city, nor was he a passenger in
peril on any sunken ship. And his service
in uniform, as a poilu in the French army,
was limited to three months far from the
field of fighting.

But in those three months of blackouts
and blockades, and in the nerve-drawn
weeks that pre- [Continued on page 64]

Flaming silks flashing against blue sky and
green turf! Men born with a zest for danger
and the right to worship beautiful women!
Headstrong young love! Fierce family pride!
Romance! Beauty! Courage! Again a great
picture has captured a great tradition!

Walter Brennan • Fay Bainter • Brenda

Kentucky's great star

loyce • John Payne • Charlie Ruggles
Marjorie Weaver • Hattie McDaniel

of "Gone With The Wind" fame
Directed by HENRY KING

Inside Report on

The Dictate

Jack Oakie who bur-
lesques a diet ai or in
Charlie Chaplin's film,
disensses the corned v

By
CHARLES l»\H\TO\

| For several years Charlie Chaplin has been
feverishly at work upon the most daring motion
picture thus far ventured in a hair-trigger era. All
Hollywood has been making all sorts of guesses
about it. Would Charlie actually hit off
Hitler? Would he speak at last on the
screen and if so in German dialect?
Would he step out of his humble shuffle
into a cocky strut? Would — ?

And now, for the first time, the answers
can be told. Authentically, they can be
given by a fellow comedian who was not
only behind the scenes but in them, as a
comic dictator himself.

Jack Oakie was discovered on the Young
People set playing pappy to Shirley
Temple and looking up to the stratospheric
Charlotte Greenwood who will be seen in
that film as his wife and vaudeville side-
kick. Dapper in a light double-breasted
suit and sporting a flower in his button-
hole, the irrepressible funster who had
made a rushing come-back, via his part
of Benzino Gasolini in the Chaplin picture,
swung out of the American scene and,
flipping off a gray soft hat and indicating
the initials "W B" stamped on its sweat-
band, cracked, "See — Warner Baxter — I
wear all his old clothes."

But only recently he had been wearing
a uniform and with it no doubt a mighty
air. And how had he felt about it?

"Thrilled," was [Continued on page 571

Oakie had his chin out for
days as he practised his comic
version of the salute used by
"Benzino Gasolini" in the film

EDITOR'S NOTE

Nearly three years ago, when Charlie
Chaplin began to make plans for his film
burlesquing dictators, very few people
dreamed that the time ever would come
when there would be serious discussion
of the complete cancellation of the pic-
ture. Some of the aspects of Hitler's
enterprises still had a wryly comic over-
tone. But, just before this magazine went
to press, so many people were asking
"Can Charlie Chaplin make anything
about Hitler seem funny now?" that the
rumor of the shelving of the entire pic-
ture spread through the papers. So much
credence was given the rumor that
Charlie Chaplin denied it in these words:
"The report that I have withdrawn my
film is entirely without foundation. More
than ever, now, the world needs to laugh.
At a time like this, laughter is a safety
valve for our sanity."

Fawcett photo by Charles Rhodes
Drawiuir by Llewellyn Miller

Touchdown
For O'Brien

Pat O'Brien says frankly that
his pari as the great football
coaeh in The Life of Knute
Rockne wins over all his roles

By
CHARLES DAGGETT

Left, Pat O'Brien in the astonishing make-
up that makes him look so much like
the great Knute Rockne in his
new football picture

Gale Page plays the part

of Mrs. Knute Rockne (center)

who acted as technical advisor. With

Mrs. Pat O'Brien, snapped on location

| Sometimes something happens on a movie set to make you realize that
all the drama and poignancy in a motion picture isn't confined to the
screen. Sometimes you see a moment of quiet heroism that is hard to
forget. I saw such a touching scene recently at Warner Brothers when
Knute Rockne's widow, Bonnie Rockne, watched one of the most vital
moments in her dead husband's life re-enacted before her eyes.
The scene was set in the chemistry department at Notre Dame. Rockne,
played by Pat O'Brien, was called to the telephone.
"Yes, this is Ka-nute Rockne," Pat said. "What do you want? What!
I'll be right there!"

Pat dropped the telephone and raced for the door, shouting to a startled
chemistry professor.
"It's Bonnie! The baby! It's come!"

Save for a faint shadow, moving swiftly across her face, Bonnie
Rockne showed no pain as she watched this dramatic chapter in her
life with Knute Rockne unfold before the cameras.
"That will do," Director Lloyd Bacon said softly.
He was satisfied with that "take," and many others which followed.
Pat was satisfied, too. It isn't every actor who can have such an
audience. There may be some carping critics, when The Life of
Knute Rockne comes to the screen, who will say that O'Brien
doesn't do justice to the part. But they'd better not say it while
Bonnie Rockne is within hearing.

If Pat could make the brave little widow of one of America's
greatest men of sport feel the living presence of her famous
husband ten years after his death, it is because he has taken
infinite pains to recreate the character of Knute Rockne. He has
discarded the O'Brien mannerisms. He speaks in the sharp stac-
cato "Rock" used. He walks, holds a football, clamps a cigar into
his teeth, gestures just as the great Notre Dame coach once did.

HOLLYWOOD

When Knute Rockne -worked as a lifeguard in 1913,
bathing suits such as these were the latest thing
in dashing beach wear. You'll see them in the film

His is the same broken face, gentle and charming. The make-up, which
takes one hour and thirty minutes to put on, is a tribute to the science
and the magic of Percy Westmore. It is no wonder that Bonnie Rockne
gasped when she first saw Pat, that friends of Rockne — great coaches who
once pitted their teams against Notre Dame— also thrilled to see their
beloved enemy again.

Pat has never been so happy in a role before, not even that of Father
Duffy in The Fighting 69th he says.

"A man can't tell you the name of his Congressman in 1928," Pat said,
"but he certainly can tell you who was coach at Notre Dame. The thing
I like about this part is that Rockne was one of the greatest men in
America — the finest coach in college football.

"Football rules and plays have changed, maybe, but the things 'Rock'
taught his boys at Notre Dame never will change. He taught 'em sports-
manship, clean playing. Best of all, he taught 'em that you should always
look good even if you lose.

"Notre Dame never was accused of dirty playing. Rockne believed that
the essence of sportsmanship was for one boy to see another boy's point
of view. He believed that the players must be a credit to Notre Dame and
a credit to their parents. If one of his men forgot those teachings Rockne
yanked him off the field, sometimes off the squad.

"He was fine. Fine all through. But he wasn't soft. He was very, very
tough. He was a man. A lot of the things he believed in might sound
as though he had read them in copy books. Maybe he did, first. But he
found 'em out in life, too. Just because
they sound so sweet when you talk about
'em doesn't make 'em any less wise and
sincere."

Gale Page plays the part of Bonnie
Rockne in the picture. She has the only
important feminine role. There are seven-
teen men (not counting the football play-
ers and the hundreds of students) in the
cast.

From the standpoint of athletics The
Life of Knute Rockne is AU-American.
Fourteen of the seventeen men went
either to college or prep school. Twelve
won letters at college football, including
Pat.

O'Brien has one very painful memory
connected with Rockne, Notre Dame and
his own college football days as a substi-
tute quarterback at Marquette.

Several years ago a publicity man, who
had less honesty than imagination, wrote a
story about Pat's football exploits. The

Jim Thorpe, greatest football player of all,
is in the film, and spent spare time giving
young players pointers on the art of punting

Bill Marshall plays the part of Don
Miller, one of the "Four Horsemen."
He trains for the movie on ice orearr

story, which was printed in a great
many newspapers, told how Pat
ran something like seventy yards
to a touchdown against Notre
Dame. Pat never authorized that
story and denied it vehemently
when he saw it in print.

"I had forgotten all about it,"
Pat told me, "until I started
working on this picture. I re-
member [Continued on page 45] I

Pat O'Brien, in the make-up
that takes an hour and a half
to apply, shown with Gale Page

AUGUST, 1940

Ivyn Dongi"

■y&

'iSmfe

Dougla9 Fairbanks, Jr

Jean Arthur

Irene Dunne

In a studio in the garden of her home,
Ginger Rogers becomes a sculptress and
makes a portrait in stone of her mother

Ginger Rogers utilizes
spare moments between
takes at the studio for
rapid charcoal sketches

91 Heaven forbid that Ginger Rogers
ever develops a streak of covetous-
ness. If she did there would be no
security for you or me or the United
States Treasury. More than anybody in
public life, Miss Rogers is the girl who
gets what she goes after.

Ask anyone who has ever competed
with her at any sport, no matter how ex-
acting in the way of special skill or
strength. Ginger eventually gets the
upper hand and having got it never re-
linquishes it by so much as the flex of a
muscle.

Around Hollywood they regard her as
the gal who doesn't belong to any fixed
group or set or movement. She has no
pet charities to promote, no packaged

Above, Ginger's charcoal drawing
of ballad-composer, Irving Berlin

Yon know her as a
charming dancer, a clev-
er songstress, a versatile
actress. Itnt did yon know
that she has three other
well-developed talents?

D-UNCAN l^DERHILL

products to testimonialize, no new
geniuses to thrust on the world.

This in itself is enough to mark her
eccentric in a town that takes its fun
before the flashbulbs and regards a dinner
party for sixty as delightfully cosy and
intimate.

When a new project suggests itself to
Ginger, she submits two questions to her-
self: "Is it worth doing?" and "Can I
visualize myself doing it?"

If the answer is "yes" to both, you can
bet the rent that Ginger will throw her-
self into the new undertaking with the
celebrated Rogers verve and emerge with
pennants flying.

Primrose Path presented a Ginger that
was not neces- [Continued on page 501

HOLLYWOOD

MMHBBH

Kibbee's Search
For Beauty

In the movies, a man has lu keep up
his appearance, guard his looks, make
a fine view of himself, and here is the
sad tale of how Guy Kibbee, af ler
making Street of Memory, conducted
his own personal beauty campaign

AUGUST, 1940

Never mind, Guy! Everybody know*
smart men always come out on top!

The Sea Hawk

They built an ocean and two full-rigged ships
for a production that had plenty of excitement
during the filming as well as on the screen

By JESSIE HENDERSON

There is plenty of fast action when
Errol Flynn fights his way through
the corridors of the palace against
his enemies in the Queen's own guard

Errol Flynn, as the gallant captain,
during the evil days of his capture
by the enemy serves his time at the
sweeps deep in the hold of the ship

Brenda Marshall had her troubles
with "Professor," the acting monkey,
when they had a difference, of ideas
about her gros point chair covering

■ Slowly the great ship rolled, beneath
a cloud of canvas, through a smother
of angry foam. Then, with a majestic
swoop, it curtseyed till the horizon reeled
and the toughest Elizabethan sailor aboard
said, "Gosh!" And gulped uneasily. Half
of the sixteenth century buckaroos were
seasick the first day.

As a matter of fact, the only two priva-
teers who didn't grow queasy once in the
course of the voyage were Errol Flynn
and Alan Hale. They sail boats, them-
selves. But not across oceans like this.

For all that deep sea stuff was proceed-
ing merrily upon an indoors ocean with
a roof over it. A life on the rolling wave,
with plenty of wave, had been concocted
at the Warner studio inside the world's
largest sound stage. The billows heaved
exclusively and expensively on behalf of
The Sea Hawk, that romantic tale of der-
ring-do in the England of 1585. And where
the indoor briny had it over the outdoor
kind — they could turn off the weather
whenever Director Mike Curtiz told them
to cut out the mechanism.

He told them. The roll stopped. In a
jiffy, or as soon as the camera could be
set up at a new angle, the ship came
quietly to dock in the English harbor of
Dover. Boy, what a trip! And there on
the high, carved quarterdeck stood the
hero of it.

He was Francis Thorpe, played by Errol
Flynn, a gallant figure in green and rus-
set velvet, with a sword that glittered in
the sun and a cape that flung out jauntily
at each impatient gesture. He was impa-
tient for the sight of a pair of dark Spanish
eyes . . . for little Maria, proud and alien
among the ladies of the English court. . . .

Meanwhile, on the roofs and quays the
whole town crowded, roaring with excite-

ment. It waited the arrival of Good Queen
Bess (Flora Robson) who was coming to
reward young Thorpe with knighthood.

The character of Francis Thorpe was
patterned after that of Admiral Sir Fran-
cis Drake. It's worthy of note in passing
that Drake cruised along the California
coast only twenty miles and four hundred
years from the spot where Warner's were
now filming exploits based upon his.

Like Drake, the gentleman- adventurer
of The Sea Hawk had plagued the treasure
ship of King Philip of Spain, England's
bitter enemy, from South America to the
Bay of Cadiz. He stood ready this moment
at the drop of a hat — one of those curly-
plumed, swashbuckling hats in which
Errol looks so well — to sail against Philip's
armada which was heading toward the
English shore. He paused only for the
Queen's godspeed.

A sudden hush gripped the throng of
townspeople. The hush was followed by
a shout of welcome, and a shuffle to make
room before the levelled pikes and glint-
ing breastplates of the guard.

The Queen! She moved majestic as a
galleon herself, resplendent in gold and
emerald brocade, and behind her came
the shining wake of gentlemen in rich
purples and tawnies arid blues, the maids
of honor in wide farthingales and jewelled
stomachers. Among the court guests, in a
gown of garnet silk, came Maria (Brenda
Marshall), whose lips had once hardened
with scorn for the English "buccaneer,"
but whose Castilian heart and pride had
melted fast enough when Thorpe made
love to her.

On shipboard a crimson canopy had
been stretched above the chair of State
to which they escorted the Queen. The
royal group blazed [Continued on page 52]

a~OTzreremra^rzra^ra^^^ra^^r;

Double Trouble

[iiHHHzrBrzrErarETBzrarHZfHHrErEJHBrHH^

Joe Penner, Allan Jones, Martha Raye, Irene Hervey and what's this?
Allan Jones again and Joe Penner! All having double trouble in The
Boys From Syracuse with the aid of the trick camera's double exposure

DEAR EDITOR:

Come time to review what I've been
through the past five days trying to earn
an honest penny as an extra good extra,
and I find myself astraddle the well-
known fence when I struggle to decide
whether I want to continue my (ahem)
career in such pictures as The Real Glory,
Gunga Din, 20 Mule Team, and The
Grapes of Wrath (in which I got myself
battered from pillar to post as well as
from head to foot, as you may recall) or
whether I shall look around and finagle
myself into future pictures like this here
Universal production called The Boys
From Syracuse in which I found myself
dressed up in clothes that were quite the
fashion 1,000 years ago when a gent
by the name of Ephesus, a Mr. Big
of ancient Greece, had just about
rendered hors de combat another gent
by the name of Antipholus who hap-

pened to be another Mr. Big with a great
big army.

I wish you could have seen me during
those five days. I was a sight for sore
eyes. There I was, dolled up in a knee-
length skirt (sort of a gentian blue in color

II y E. J. (The Greeks Have a
Name For Me) S M 1 T 11 S O >

Our favorite extra thought
he would double in brass and
get a double pay check, but
decided (hat the single life
on the screen is the best

and pleated in design), a pair of sandals
on my number eleven tootsies, and a
white blouse. Topping this ensemble off
was a two-inch gold band around my
head. When I wasn't wearing this nifty
outfit, I was wearing a toga. At this point
I might mention that if you've never worn
a toga you really ain't wore anything yet.
A toga, in case you're interested, is an
oversize bedsheet that you wrap around
weary bones and then, when you've got
all the various and sundry exposed places
covered, you try to walk — and one will
get you ten if you strut six feet without
falling down flat on your sweet puss! Five
days I put in wearing these kinda duds,
and after falling down and getting kicked
in the togas I longed for the wide open
spaces I used to complain about in Gunga
Din and so on.

Before I tell you about me and my part
I've got to straighten you and your readers

HOLLYWOOD

on what this picture is. So here goes.

The Boys From Syracuse is the first
of the Mayfair Productions for Universal
release. The film is based on the stage
success of the same name. The play was
produced, directed, and written by George
Abbott with music by Richard Rodgers
and Lorenz Hart. Opening in 1938, the
show played 235 performances. (Dave
Lipton, Universal demon publicity
director, gave me the dope so take his
word for it, not mine.)

The play and picture, said Dave, are
based in part on Shakespeare's The
Comedy of Errors. According to Abbott (said Dave)
the idea for the musical comedy (I guess I didn't men-
tion this before) came from Hart who suggested it as
a vehicle for his brother, Teddy Hart. In the motion
picture script, there are exactly two direct lines from
Shakespeare. One of them is a "gag" in which Joe
Penner (he's a lackey lacking acumen and is called
Dromio) quotes the line, then turns to the audience
and says, "that's Shakespeare." The other line — well,
I wish I could give it to you, but it was blue-penciled
by the Hays Office. (I'll tell it to you sometime when
you're out here on a visit!)

The picture was six weeks in production. Practically
every phase of the making of it was a compromise —
just enough Greek to lend atmosphere and enough
modern to be attrac-
tive. Costumes and
hair-dos were also a
compromise. The gals'
gowns are along Greek
lines with concessions
to the respective figures
and demands of mod-
ern audiences. The film

is full of what Director Sutherland told me were "pur-
poseful anachronisms." Several of the characters smoke
ceegars; a checkered chariot represents a taxicab.
There is a "Toonerville Trolley" chariot with a dozen
seats and facilities for strap -hangers; there are cops,
Good Humor men and so on and so on.

Now for me.

The first day was a cinch. All I had to do was walk
up and down the street of an ancient Grecian city. It

wasn't hard work except I felt like a sjssy
minus my pants and plus that blue knee-
length skirt. During this first day the
good old California sun beat down (it
was 96° in the shade, when you found it)
like a blow-torch, and all the boys from
Syracuse who were out in it wearing
sandals with those criss-crossed lacings
found out, when quitting time came at
five o'clock, that their legs had received a
good dose of striped sunburn. We cer-

tainly looked like so many animated
barber poles. This particular Greek
street, by the way is the largest outdoor
setting ever erected on the studio prop-
erty. It was more than 250 feet long with
buildings on [Continued on page 47]

Allan Jones and Rosemary Lane look
handsome in Creek costumes as they
prepare to run through the song hit,
This Can't be Love, a feature number

Eric Blore, Alan Mowbray,
Allan Jones and Joe Penner
show what usually happens
when Greek meets Greek

Allan Jones as one of The Boys From Syra-
cuse gets ready for a duet with Martha Raye

Right, soulful Miss Raye taking her art very
seriously in a vocal number with the chorus

AUGUST, 1940

Jane Withers V

Entertains the Glub

The first party (hat Jane Withers gave in her
new playroom was in honor of the initiation
of a new member of "The Gay Teens" CInb

I lit*
<*1tM
YiVUMt

'I J

First move was to plan the menu, Jane
curled up in one of the comfortable
chairs, upholstered in red and white
silk gingham, which are scattered all
over the playroom. The mural was
designed and painted by Alice Daley

The party was set for Friday from
4:30 to 8. Jane had lessons until
noon. Right after luncheon, she went
to her own kitchenette and started
on all of the goodies that could be
stored away for a couple of hours

The eggs were boiling while Jane was
stuffing the celery with a mixture of
cream and pimiento cheese, grated
parsley and salt and pepper. Next
she creamed the egg yolks with mayon-
naise, mustard and sweet pickles

The main dish was Hot Dogs De Luxe,
made by slicing juicy wieners along
one side, inserting a narrow slice of
American cheese, wrapping in bacon,
held in place with toothpicks, and
baking for thirty minutes until crisp

Like all good cooks, Jane gets hungry
in the middle of things, so she fixes
hamburgers on her own grill for her
mother, herself and her best friend,
Jeanne Howlett, who promised to
come early and help in preparations

Having eaten tbe hamburgers and
changed into a printed silk dress,
Jane and Jeanne move over to the
ice-cream bar were Mama Withers is
ready for them with chocolate sodas.
The bar has red and white decorations

*v\<m

As soon as guests begin to arrive, Jane dons an
apron and takes over the bar. Left to right, her
happy audience includes Buddy McAllister, Don
Brown and Jeanne, all ready for refills on
those double-choc sodas which start the fun

Potato chips add zest to a game of monopoly.
Seated, left to right, are Buddy, Joe Brown,
Jeanne and Mary McCarthy. All act in the
movies with the exception of Jeanne. Joe
played opposite Jane recently in High School

The initiation gets under way! Most
of the ceremony is secret, and cannot
be shown, but Jackie's howls were so
loud that there could be no secret
about it. Besides, what's an initia-
tion without a good paddling?

The end of the initiation! Jackie
kneels on a cushion before Chair-
man Jane who hands him a member-
ship card and prepares for the
reasonably gentle tap on the head
which makes him a full member

Supper is served on two card tables
drawn up to one of the corner seats.
Jane is helping herself to the tuna
salad. The boy with the curly hair is
Johnny Pironne. Notice Jane's big
collection of dolls on the shelves

Second helpings come in conven-
iently placed on a tea wagon. Jane
knows that it is always wise to have
more salad, sandwiches, eggs, potato
chips. Dessert is an old-fashioned
pineapple feather cake, a big one

What to do after supper is no prob-
lem at "The Gay Teens" Club. All
like to dance so they put records on
the victrola or get a favorite band on
the radio and stage a jitterbug con-
test until the dolls jiggle on the walls

As always, the club meeting ended
with a jam session at Jane's real
but miniature piano. Current
among favorites for harmonizing is
The Woodpecker's Song. In spite of
the stiff initiation, Jackie is happy

The end of a perfect party, the start of a perfect weekend. Jane's
tremendous over-sized bed holds three comfortably so Jeanne, Jane and
Mary finish the day with a box of candy and a new book in Jane's fluffy
organdie and satin bedroom, her favorite room next to her kitchen

rsonal History of a Foreign Correspondent

Bv DENNIS MORTELINE

Ik.

** i

Robert Benchley wrote such funny-
dialogue that he could not resist
playing the dyspeptic bureau chief

Charles Waggenheim as a spy, Joel
McCrea and Albert Basserman who
plays a Dutch Cabinet Minister
before the war actually starts

Joel lucL.rea, in tne pari
of the American reporter,
hears the plotters plan
death and destruction for
him and his bold friends

McCrea, as the foreign corre-
spondent, discovers the minister
who has been imprisoned by the
gang of ruthless war mongers

Four different times a script was prepared
for Personal History. Four different
times it was abandoned. Here is why
they finally changed the title also, and
why they call it Foreign Correspondent

| In Foreign Correspondent, Joel
McCrea admits that he has the most
exciting role of his career. He plays the
part that John Gunther, Pierre Van
Paassen, Leland Stowe, Jay Allen, Ernest
Hemingway, Vincent Sheean and a lot of
other swell reporters, who go poking about

One of the most dramatic scenes in the
film is the shooting of the blameless for-
eign minister in the middle of a busy street

the world where trouble is the hottest,
play in real life.

Sheean, as a matter of fact, is responsible
for the whole thing. He wrote the book
called Personal History, which Walter
Wanger bought over three years ago, and
which he has been trying to make into a
movie ever since.

The book is the story of Sheean's own
adventures as a journalist in a world that
has been preparing for Armageddon ever
since the Versailles treaty.

Fresh out of college he was sent by an
American news syndicate, the Newspaper
Enterprise Association, to Europe. His
job was to go where world history was
being made, watch it and tell about it for
the folks back home.

In Spain a censor who didn't like his
cables threw him into jail. In Morocco he
traveled with Abd El Krim's guerrillas as
they battled with Spanish troops. He
dressed as a Riffian soldier, dodged rifle
bullets and bombing planes and sent back
some exciting dispatches to the United
States.

Later he went to Corsica, Egypt, Persia,
Russia, China, Palestine — wherever his-
tory was being made. He saw it all and
he saw what was coming, too. His book
is packed with the living history of the
'30's . . . the prelude to the war now
raging in Europe.

Wanger knew he had something when
he bought Personal History. The book
was a notable best-seller. But by the
time the first treatment was prepared, it
was out-of-date. War in Spain had broken
out. That was the logical background for
a film about a foreign correspondent. A
new script was ordered.

That script, also, was out-of-date almost
as soon as it was finished. The war in
Spain ended. Conditions in France and
Germany changed. A third script had to
be discarded when Germany took Austria
and Czechoslovakia.

H Sheean's adventures in wars he had
witnessed suggested a fourth treat-
ment. He came to Hollywood and offered
Producer Wanger valuable suggestions
and constructive criticism.

You know what happened then:

The Hitler Blitzkrieg drove through
Poland. England and France declared
war on Germany. Russian soldiers
trampled Finland. The fourth script found
the wastebasket.

About that time Director Alfred Hitch-
cock came to Wanger with an entirely new
idea.

New alliances form swiftly in war time.
Shrapnel and shells that explode into
curious bouquets of dust and stones in-
cessantly find fresh victims. People like
you and me cower in cellars or run wildly
through broken streets and open fields for
shelter in holes and ditches while incen-
diary bombs go on falling, falling . . .

Hitchcock's idea was simple. Maps go
out-of-date overnight. But the old schem-
ing and plotting— the intrigue of poli-
ticians and the makers of wars — don't
change. They, like the poor, are always
with us . . . and that's what Foreign Cor-
respondent will show.

There have been other instances when
a best-seller was rewritten entirely for the
screen, but I don't believe there's ever
been one hammered out of shape four
times by the big guns of Europe.

After such drastic changes, Wanger
refused to capitalize on the title, Personal
History. The book gave him the main
idea, but the title, Foreign Correspondent
fits in better now. So Wanger coura-
geously forgot the $100,000 he had invested
in the book title and went on from there.

The day I talked with Wanger a

couple of the best scenes in Foreign
Correspondent were being shot. McCrea,
in Holland, on the track of a gang of secret
agents, got into a tight spot and had to
climb out of his hotel room dressed only
in a pair of shorts.

He also had to scale the building and
hoist himself into a room just one floor
above his own where Laraine Day was
entertaining a couple of dowagers.

Joel gets in through the bathroom
window, opens the door and peers out. At
that precise moment one of the dowagers
looks up from her teacup.

The man in shorts was too much for her,
too much for her companion; and for that

Rosemary Lane considers a head-stand
just the start of the day's exercise which
usually ends with a dip in the pool at
her valley home. You'll see her very
soon in An Angel From Texas

matter, too much for Laraine. Her visitors
hadn't thought she was that kind of girl.
They were out of Laraine's room in a flash.
To them a strange man hiding in a nice
girl's bathroom was worse than death.

You will see by this episode that the
reporter, was, indeed, in a tough spot.
The killers' guns were almost easier to
face than the situation compromising to a
young girl he'd met only once before.

Besides McCrea, who plays the part of
the American correspondent, there's Miss
Day, Herbert Marshall, Eduardo Cianelli,
Robert Benchley, Albert Basserman, Ed-
mund Gwenn and several hundred others
in the cast.

Marshall plays Stephen Fisher, the head
of an international peace movement trying
to stem the tide of blood in Europe.
Laraine is his daughter, Carol. Benchley

is Stebbins, the head of the Globe Syndi-
cate news bureau in London. McCrea
works for the Globe Syndicate, too, on a
roving assignment.

Cianelli (as you might have guessed) is
Krug, sinister, deadly leader of the gang
that is promoting war. Albert Basserman,
the great German stage actor who made
his film debut in Dr. Ehrlich's Magic
Bullet, plays Van Meer, Dutch minister
and ardent pacifist.

Benchley literally wrote himself right
into Foreign Correspondent. Hired to
write some humor into the otherwise
grim script, Benchley made an elegant
character out of Stebbins.

When he finished creating the droll,
neurotic news bureau manager there was
only one man in Hollywood who could
play the part. Hitchcock read the script,
telephoned Benchley and put him to work
as an actor. You've seen him before on
the screen, but not in such a side-splitting
role.

W Laraine was about the busiest person
on the set. Every time she had a few
minutes between scenes she dashed for
the telephone. Once she made connections
she engaged in the most baffling conversa-
tion I've ever heard, mixing screams and
sobs and laughter into her talk. You
couldn't help listening.

After a telephone session that lasted
twenty minutes she explained that she
was rehearsing her part for a play that
will be produced by the Wilshire Group
Theatre, which is sponsored by the
Mormon Church. She is one of the little
theatre group's stars, but she can't take
time out from Foreign Correspondent to
attend rehearsals with the rest of the cast,
so she had to do it by telephone. While
the others were on the stage across town
she was reading her lines over the wire.

Around the adventures of Bill Jones, a
man whose knowledge of inside intrigue
makes him a likely target for Gestapo
gunmen, are scenes filled with excitement
and suspense. The chase, the developing
love story and the parade of living history
moves all over the map. The action takes
place in New York, England, Holland, the
Atlantic and the North Sea.

■ Hitchock is the screen's unchallenged
master of mystery. He directed The
Man Who Knew Too Much, Secret Agent,
The 39 Steps and a couple of other blood-
chilling pictures in England. Over here
he recently finished Rebecca for David O.
Selznick.

For such a mild-mannered, fat man,
Hitchcock is an amazing person. He says
he likes to make the audience suffer. He
does, too, but never from dullness. He
builds suspense that puts you on the edge
of your seat. Part of his technique is to
disarm the audience and then, suddenly
have that innocent-looking man (the one
you wouldn't give a second glance) turn
into a cold-blooded, deliberate killer.

To watch him on the set you'd get him
mixed up with one of his own villains.
His large ears, mild blue eyes, double chin
and pink, well-scrubbed cheeks give him
a jolly, innocent look. He invariably goes
[Continued on page 63]

Some Girls look Older in Summer

& GRIT in Face Powder is one of the Reasons!'

sa&#-

1. Day by day the summer sun is
changing the tones of your skin!
You should look younger in sum-
mer, yet it is tragically true, says
Lady Esther, that many girls look
older. The reason may be a shade
of powder that was all right for
March but all wrong for July— or it
may be a face powder that is wrong
in texture— a face powder that con-
tains GRIT.

2. Yes, grit in your powder can give your
skin a "grainy" look, a "powdery" look . . . often
mistaken for an aged look and much more notice-
able in summer! So beware of gritty powder-
test the powder you are using, and do it right now!

3. Make my famous "Bite Test!"

Put a pinch of your present powder
between your teeth— now bite hard and
grind slowly. Don't be surprised if
your teeth find grit— for impartial lab-
oratory tests show GRIT even in many
expensive face powders ...powders that
cost $1.00, $2.00, $3.00.

4. But you'll detect no grit in Lady Esther
Face Powder. My powder is so smooth it clings 4
long hours. Put it on say at eight— and at mid-
night it will still flatter you, never giving you a
"powdery" look that makes you seem older.

Are you using the WRONG SHADE for Summer?

Thousands of women unknowingly
wear the wrong shade of face powder in
the summer— a powder shade that was
all right for March, perhaps, but is all
wrong for July!

For in summer, the sun has changed your
skin tones — and you need a new shade
that will glorify your skin as it is today.

So Lady Esther says: Mail me the cou-
pon and I will send you ten glorious

shades of my grit-free powder. Try them
all!— every one. That is the way— and the
only way to discover which is most glam-
orous for you this summer! Perhaps it
will be Champagne Rachel, perhaps
Peach Rachel, perhaps Rose Brunette.

So find the right shade of my grit-free
powder— the lucky shade for you, out of
this glorious collection of ten, and you
will look younger, lovelier— you will be
really in tune with life.

LADY ESTHER FACE POWDER

* '0 shades free/ *

j 7130 West eSth'street, Chicago, I,] (S8)

i NAME.

CITV

'J 'youhviin Canada write I ,j P ,

Looking Over the Field

■ At Broadway and Forty-fifth Street,
where the hustling hordes of Times
Square push one another for pavement
room, there is a bright, shiny drug store
that has become the unofficial head-
quarters of that brave little army of stage-
struck youngsters who are laying siege
to the managers' offices clustered in the
heart of the theatrical district.

The Penn-Astor it is called, and it is
the Stork Club of the unemployed juvenile
and ingenue, the Algonquin of the aspir-
ing but unproduced playwright, the Sardi's
of the summer stock company graduate.
Here, where Coca-Colas substitute for
cocktails and a toasted cheese sandwich
serves as luncheon or dinner (or some-
times both), the young hopefuls of to-
morrow's headlines in the drama sections
gather to exchange dreams and gossip of
the casting offices.

From this Lambs Club of the poor actor
have come many of the figures
whom fame has touched. Tall,
lanky Jim Stewart once was a
familiar sight at the soda foun-
tain. So were Hank Fonda and
Maggie Sullavan and others who
fought the battle of Broadway
before they were decorated with
Hollywood honors.

About six years ago, there
drifted into this garrulous group
of The Bit Players Cafe Society,
a quiet-eyed, modestly dressed
girl who looked even younger
than the sixteen years she
claimed. Her name, she said, was
Betty Field, and she had been
hammering at the office doors of
Broadway managers for a
month, seeking a chance to get
her fingers into a pot of make-up
backstage in any Manhattan
theatre.

Today Betty Field is one of

Outstanding among the
new screen players is
lovely, little Betty Field.
Here is the story of how
she worked to be a star

By WILBI It MOBSK. .IB.

the Penn-Astor's most illustrious alumnae
Down the street at the Hudson Theatre
her name is up in lights on the marquee
as one of the three stars of Elmer Rice's
engaging play Two On An Island, and
three times during the past season the
billboards of the great Broadway first run
movie houses have been splashed with
her featured billing in What a Life,
Seventeen and Of Mice and Men.

At 22, Betty Field is a brisk little bundle
of documentary proof that the Bethel
Merridays of fiction have equally colorful

Right, Betty Field as she
appears without make-up

Bafo/g8g->y-/-:.7g/'-::.- ■

The lady in bine was a mystery...

Sh6 WaS a dream of loveliness in clouds of blue chiffon. Music
below — the captain's ball — and yet she stood alone at the rail.
Then she sighed — and because I'm the cruise nurse, I asked her
what was wrong. The poor thing was having one of her "difficult
days." She felt so chafed she didn't dare dance, So . . .

I Sped her to the ship's hospital and reached for my box of
Miracle Modess. "Feel this, and stop your sighing," I told her
as I snipped into a pad and showed her the soft, downy filler.
"Modess is made of fluff— not papery folds. Fluff so wonderfully
soft it brings glorious new comfort!" Well . . .

The lady in blue went to the ball— and danced every dance till
the last "good night" waltz. This morning I got a tiny gift
package and a note: "This perfume is a gift from the lady in
blue, to thank you for a very happy evening! I'll never forget
this cruise — thanks to you and Miracle Modess."

Cut a "layer-type" napkin-
then cut a Modess pad- Feel
the difference! Modess is
made of fluff — not close-
packed papery folds. Soft,
gentle fluff ... a miracle of
comfort! And thanks to
"moisture-zoning," Modess
stays softer !

Modess is made of fluff

instead of papery folds

Press the fluff in a Modess pad
— see how it yields. That's
why Modess moulds to the
body so smoothly without
bulk or bunching . . . why it
stays flat where you want
flatness! Modess' moisture -
resistant backing makes it
safer, too!

Get curious! Get comfortable! Get the New Miracle Modess!

counterparts in fact. For Betty Field is
the perfect example of the small town
girl who wanted to be an actress and by
sheer persistency pushed her way from
a balcony seat to the center of the stage.

Broadway has been applauding Betty
Field's talents for considerably longer
than Hollywood, which just this year
added her profile to its special ballyhoo
book of fresh faces. So it was appropriate
that it was to the dressing room of a Times
Square theatre, and not a Beverly Hills
bungalow, that I turned my footsteps in
search of a background story on this lively
new screen personality.

Her celluloid portraits of the irrepress-
ible Barbara Pearson in What a Life, the
loquacious Lola of Seventeen and the pro-
vocative Mae in Of Mice And Men, had
prepared me for a somewhat flighty little
miss whose conversation would be
cushioned with soft endearments, the kind
of a girl who calls everyone "Darling"
to save the bother of remembering their
names, and quotes freely from barroom
Boswells like Winchell.

Instead Betty Field proved to be a
modest, serious young lady whose all con-
suming ambition to climb to the top of
the theatrical ladder has left her no time
to acquire any artificialities on any of the
rungs. She has the direct manner of a
bright, successful young career woman in
a Ladies' Home Journal serial. When she
is thirty she'll do all the proper things
about diet and exercise.

As she sat at her dressing table and
wiped away the make-up of that after-
noon's matinee, there emerged from under
the layers of footlight filigree a pretty,
personable, self-assured young lady with
a good complexion of her own, friendly
grey eyes and soft, light brown almost
blond hair that photographs much darker
than it really is. Her most arresting
feature is her wide, humorous mouth. Her
figure is worthy of a Petty poster. When
she stands on a weighing machine the
little white ticket that plops out at her
reads 110 pounds and, to complete the
records, let it be added that she is five feet
five inches tall.

Between pats of cold cream, Betty
dabbed at her memory, too, and revealed
a biography brilliant for the very sim-
plicity of its singleness of purpose. In a
year when so many other cinematic dis-
coveries were Cinderellas "found" over a
chocolate nut sundae in an ice cream
parlor, or lured away from a typewriter
by a talent scout, it is reassuring to realize
that an arduous apprenticeship in the
theatre itself is still one of the open roads
to film fame.

Betty was born in Boston, February 8,
1918, daughter of George and Katherine
Kearney Field. On her father's side, her
ancestry runs far back into New England
history to the Priscilla Brewster who ad-
vised John Alden to speak for himself, a
positive trait Betty was to borrow at the
outset of her own career. Another dis-
tinguished photo in her family album is
that of Cyrus Field, the man who laid the
transatlantic cable. Her inheritance
from her mother is Irish, and it was from
her mother, too, that Betty absorbed her
love for things theatric.

'"In a way, I have been acting ever since
I can remember," declared Betty. "When
I was eight or nine, I used to stop people
on the street and pretend I was somebody
else. I would watch to see if they believed
me, because if they did, I knew the pre-
tending was good. My hair was cut in a
boyish bob so one day I dressed up in
boy's clothes, walked the way I had seen
boys walk, and told people I was a boy.
But I could see they didn't believe me and
I was awfully disappointed and puzzled."
It was, perhaps, the only time in her life
Betty Field was to fail to give a convincing
performance.

After a childhood in Newton, Massa-
chusetts, Betty moved to Morristown, New

Joan Crawford, in ermine for a chilly
summer evening, wears the brightest
smile in months. Reason? The baby girl
she adopted on her last trip to New-
York and named Cristina Crawford

Jersey, about the time she was ready to
enter high school and it was during her
senior year there that Betty, following
several triumphant ventures in school
plays, decided to chart the course of her
life by the lights from the footlight
troughs of the professional stage.

That decision made, Betty moved
promptly to carry it out. Her first step
was to see as many plays as possible and
the Saturday matinees of the Rowland
G. Edwards stock company in Newark
became her hunting ground.

"I loved everything about the theatre,"
Betty continued, "and after every show
would go home and recite as many of the
lines as I could remember. It seemed to

me that the theatre was the only place in
the world that was really exciting and to
be a part of it, no matter how small, the
most desirable career imaginable.

"Often, after the matinees, I used to
stand outside the stage door and watch
the company come out. They seemed like
magical people leaving a fairyland.
Florence Reed was one of the visiting stars
and Bert Lytell another. They were
wonderful creatures to me, not quite
human. I used to ask them for their
autographs and then, if they'd stop and
talk for a minute, inquire if there wasn't
a chance for me in the company.

"Finally, one day, someone told me that
Mr. Edwards' secretary lived in the hotel
next to the theatre and that if I wrote
her a letter it might lead to an opening.
So I wrote, not one letter, but two or
three."

That she was something more than just
a stagestruck schoolgirl must have shone
through the lines of her letters, the
earnestness of her ambition, and her
tenacity, must have touched the imagina-
tion of that Newark repertory company
manager for one day there came a tele-
phone call to the Field house from the
theatre.

"What a moment that was!" Betty re-
called. "They said they could use me as
an extra in the next week's play. It was
Shanghai Gesture, with Florence Reed.
All I did was sit behind some lattice work,
made up as a Chinese sing-song girl but
I could not have been more thrilled if I
had been ensconced on a throne playing
Mary, Queen of Scots.

"After that, they let me work in other
plays as an extra and the last week I was
with them, I had quite a lot to do. I was
a maid who ran into a room and dis-
covered that someone was lying there
murdered, and screamed!"

| In view of the fact that her first movie
role was that of the vocally vigorous
high school cheer leader in What a Life,
it is pertinent to note that Betty literally
yelled her way right out of her own high
school career.

That one week of making a dramatic
entrance and screaming, in the stock com-
pany mystery shocker, convinced Betty
that she was wasting precious time
thumbing books on biology or chemistry.
Where she belonged was in New York
reciting to producers the story of her
record in Newark, pressing for a test on
Broadway.

Her campaign of propaganda for
parental permission to quit high school
would have sold a Vermont Republican
on a third term for a Democratic President.
So Betty, full of confidence, and with a
handful of clippings showing her name in
the Newark casts, crossed the Hudson in
her march on Manhattan's citadels of the
stage.

It was Spring. She was sixteen. And
New York was just waiting for her to
knock, she was sure. She knocked for a
month with no response.

"There's one thing I can say, I certainly
had nerve," Betty picked up the tale again.
"I would breeze blithely into a producer's
[Continued on page 60]

It's really a treat for a baby's relatives to
hear his mother say, "Dear— dear! I just
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At this signal, they're off, each with a
screamingly good trick, guaranteed to charm
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And it's so unnecessary— you don't need
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him eat when he gets food that he likes!

Dodge those family pow-wows ...

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Get your baby's advisory council to make a
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And with Clapp's rich flavor goes a growth-
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Yes, and it's the feel as well as the taste!
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For 19 years, Clapp's have been getting tips
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17 Strained Foods for Babies

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Mixed Greens • Fruits-Apricots • Prunes
Applesauce • Pears-and-Peaches • Cereal
— Baby Cereal.

12 Chopped Foods for Toddlers

Soup -Vegetable Soup • Combination Din-
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Prunes • Dessert— Pineapple Rice Dessert
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OKAYED BY DOCTORS AND BABIES

i Who Is That Knocking ?

Opportunity may knock once, foul the unexpected is
forever rapping at the doors of Hollywood's stars

Kv HELEN LOUSE WALKER

B "Who's that knocking at my door?
Who's that knocking . . .??"

It all depends on whose door. Holly-
wood is a place where most of the doors are
pretty well guarded, if not actually barri-
caded. And no wonder! Why, one of the
last times Wallace Beery opened his own
front door, do you know what happened?
A seedy looking guy sold him a coyote.
The man and the beast both looked hungry
and the purchase presumably solved that
difficulty. But then — there Wally was with
the coyote on his hands — in a house which
is equipped primarily for the accommoda-
tion of two pretty little girls, and which
really has no proper quarters for wild
beasts, however hungry. Experiences like
that teach a man caution . . . sometimes.

But if you are a motion picture star and
open your own door, you just never know.

Take Ann Sheridan who moved to San
Fernando Valley only recently and was
simply basking in the informal neighbor-
liness and rural atmosphere and everything.
Ann dashed to the front door when she
heard a tap one morning, hoping that the
dear old lady across the way wanted to
borrow a cup of sugar . . . just to make the
whole thing perfect. On the front step
stood a young woman wearing a snood.
At first glimpse of Ann's shining morning
face she unfastened something and an-
nounced, solemnly, "I've brought you my
hair!" Whereupon her hair tumbled down —
a veritable cascade of auburn tresses which
rippled from her scalp to her heels.

"I read that you were going to do another
'Gay Nineties' picture and that you would
have to have long hair," she went on. "So
I've brought you mine. All the way from
Iowa." She produced a prodigious pair of
shears and began to snip industriously at
her spectacular locks.

Ann shrieked, "Stop! Oh, don't! Some-
body come!" and some more things like
that. People scurried around and the solemn
lady was finally persuaded to go away,
leaving only a yard or two of her tresses
on the front stoop. But Ann thinks twice
now before she trills, "Come in!" at the
most innocent sounding knock.

Then there was Bette Davis on — of
all things — moving d-ay. Bette was wear-
ing a gingham pinafore and a bandana,
and was bustling about no end, telling
people where to put things, when she
heard a confident feminine voice asking
for her. "I'm Miss Davis," Bette sang
over her shoulder. "Just put whatever-

it-is down for a minute and I'll be there."
The voice, sounding appalled, said, flatly,
"You're not Bette Davis! I'd know her
anywhere. Miss Davis asked me to come to
see her when I came to Hollywood. Please
tell her I'm here."

It turned out to be a fan from 'way off
somewhere whose letters Bette had been
answering for some time. The fan just
couldn't believe that this object with a
smudge on its nose was her idol. "She was
so dreadfully disappointed that I couldn't
bear it," Bette relates. "I dropped every-
thing, put on make-up and my best hat
and took her to the studio for lunch. She
seemed to have a nice time but she was
very condescending to me. I have a sus-
picion even now that she thinks a stand-in
or a double or someone took her around.
She simply couldn't believe that an actress
ever wore a gingham frock and had a dirty
face!"

B Louis Hayward and Ida Lupino didn't
hear any knocks — at least the first
time. They simply awoke one morning at
their beach house to find that every stick
and wisp of their garden furniture had
disappeared. They would have called the
police if there had been any police to call
and if they'd had a telephone. But since
there weren't and they hadn't, they just
sat down with pieces of paper and pencils
and tried to figure out how much they'd
have to spend for new furniture and how
they could fasten it down after they got it.
Before this question had been settled, they
awoke bright and early one noon to find
that all the furniture had been replaced,
gay and shining with new paint and canvas.
Just as they were exulting that it was all
true — there were good fairies at the bottom
of the garden — the knock came. It was a
dour neighbor, announcing, "The man took
your furniture and put our paint and canvas
on it. What are you going to do about it?"
I don't know the end of this story. The
last I heard, everyone was putting down
figures on pieces of paper and I don't know
whether the Lupino's, the neighbor or the
man who fixed the furniture came out

B Now! Can you bear a sad story? Well,
it seems that Greer Garson, still feeling
a stranger in these parts, watches eagerly
for her mail each day, even as you and I.
She used to run to meet the postman, a
kindly chap with a red mustache who

Ai^^HnH

greeted her gaily and always asked her
how she felt. They used to have fine
chats. She learned all about his family,
and he showed her a picture of himself,
playing the cornet in the postman's band.
One day he said, with the friendliest
interest, "How is your Missus — this Greer
Garson? Is she nice to work for? She's
in the pictures, isn't she?" Greer, caught
unawares, blurted, "Why, I'm Miss Gar-
son . . .!" Whereupon the friendly mail-
man doffed his cap, muttered something
and walked sternly away. He won't talk
to her any more. Just nods and says,
"How d'ye do?" Greer doesn't know
whether he disapproves of movie actresses
or is afraid of them. But she misses the
chats and feels hurt to be dropped by an
old friend, just like that, without any
real explanation.

| Basil Rathbone, I'm afraid, has lived

in Hollywood long enough to expect

the worst from rings at his doorbell. Any-

how, shortly after he moved to Bel Air,
when he heard a commotion at the front
door and glimpsed a red-faced man with
his tie under one ear, his first impulse was
to cry to the butler, "Don't let him in!"
Second thought led him to investigate —
and just as well, too. The red-faced man
panted, "So sorry to trouble you, old man!
But you see, I've got this appointment to
speak at a banquet. My wife's away and
my man has broken his wrist and, look
here! You're awfully good at this sort of
thing. Would you — would you be so kind
as to tie my tie for me? Just as a neigh-
borly gesture?"

Basil shouted, "Why, of-course, of-
course!" and started right in to assist the
distressed one. But it turned out that he
had to call Ouida after all because he
discovered that while he can certainly tie
a perfect bow under his own personal
chin, it's another matter entirely to
approach the mat'ter backward, as it were,
and tie it under someone else's chin. By

the time Ouida arrived the tie was in rags
and they had to send upstairs for one of
Basil's and by the time that was all
attended to, the three of them were fast
friends. And the red-faced gentleman
turned out to be an important picture
executive and everyone in Hollywood
knows that it's a fine thing to be fast
friends with an executive. There must be
a moral somewhere in this.

■ But I don't know what to make of the
stranger who accosted Bob Taylor as
he left his front gate the other morning,
studio bound. This gentleman spoke to
Bob by name and said, "A friend of yours
sent me. He said he knew you'd want to
buy one of these!"

Bob eyed the object in question and
asked, "What is it?"

"Why, it's a snore preventer! See? It
works like this . . ." and the man pro-
ceeded to demonstrate. It was a curious
object, resembling the nose guards that

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Just as Betty Grable's does here, your expression
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of your lashes is enchanting. Your eyebrows are grace-
ful and expressive. Try these famous Maybelline
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for you. Attractive purse sizes at all 10c stores.

football players sometime wear and Bob
bought one and was halfway to the studio
before it occurred to him to wonder where
the fellow got his address and how he
knew what time he would be leaving for
the studio . . . and who in the world would
have dared suggest that he needed a snore
preventer? He had thought when he
bought it that be might get some laughs
with it at the studio. But he thought
better of it and the snore preventer is now
resting deep in one of the pockets of his
car.

! But after all, it's reasonably easy to
do a good deed for a neighbor or a
peddler. Relatives are different. Even if
they aren't your own! Otto Kruger and
James Cagney have both had a bit of
relative trouble in the past month. Otto
trustingly opened his own front door on
maid's day out and was confronted with
a charming and dignified Scottish lady,
accompanied by her son and daughter-in-
law. She informed Otto, with suitable
emotion, that he was her long-lost son and
that she and her other two children had
come all the way from Scotland to claim
him.

Well, you can't keep your long-lost
mother standing on your doorstep while
you prove to her that she is no such thing,
can you? Otto, who has rarely laid eyes
on anything more Scotch than a scone,
invited them all in and spent an exceed-
ingly unhappy hour and a half serving tea
and convincing them that while he was re-
lated to lots and lots of people, his guests
didn't happen to be among them. "It's
awfully difficult to turn a would-be
mother away," Otto sighed. "And most
exhausting!"

Cagney's relative was a "long-lost
sister" who was pretty, persistent and
weepy. Everyone but Jim was convinced
at once that she was a smart young miss
trying to put one over. But Jim is a
soft-hearted Irishman and he kept think-
ing that she might believe that she really
was his sister. And she cried. And he felt
terrible.

■ Jeffrey Lynn found a sloe-eyed lady
on his doorstep one morning who told
him she was "a psychic" and that she had
come to warn him that he "mu-st n-o-t
1-e-a-v-e the house that day." Jeff
laughed, gave her fifty cents and set off
for the studio, feeling, if you must know,
positively clammy with dread. And that
was the day the studio chose to notify him
that his option was to be taken up — with
substantial salary raise.

[ Connie Bennett prides herself a good
deal, you know, on being businesslike
and efficient and all. She was super-
vising spring house-cleaning not long ago
and had decided that all sorts of furniture
must be cleaned and renovated. So when
a burly man at the front door said that he
had "come for the . . ." she nodded,
brightly and told him to come in. He and
his helper carefully removed a divan, three
chairs and a small but valuable rug. And
that's the last that was ever seen of the
divan, the chairs and the rug. Connie still

doesn't see how she allowed a thing like
that to happen to her.

fi Gene Raymond and Jeanette Mac-
Donald didn't exactly open the door
to their unexpected callers. They found
them in a tree. In nice weather the
Raymonds have their breakfast in a walled
patio which is shaded by a huge tree whose
branches extend outside the wall. Hearing
a slight commotion one morning they
looked up to discover two small boys in
the tree, busily snapping candid camera
shots of them.

"Come down from there at once!" Gene
commanded, sounding frightfully stern
and menacing (he says!). Which would
have been all very well except that he
startled them so that one of them slipped
and a branch bent somehow and his pants
caught and . . . well, I can't explain exactly
what happened from this distance but any-
how the kids were stuck up there and
neither of them could get down. Their
stance — if you could call it that — looked so
precarious that Gene didn't even dare take
time to get a ladder. He scaled the wall,
clambered into the tree, doing his own
trousers no good in the ascent, and re-
trieved the youngsters, one by one. Feeling
quite like Tarzan, he lowered them to
Jeanette who had been frantically strew-
ing cushions about on the ground to pre-
vent possible concussions. And it was
a good ten minutes before it occurred to
anyone present that there had been any-
thing funny about the performance.

■ Paul Muni acquired a permanent
addition to his household when he
opened his own back door one day. Paul
was preparing for his role of a Mexican
in Bordertown and when he found a
distinctly prepossessing Mexican youth on
his doorstep, seeking work, he asked him
in at once. The young man was as aston-
ished as anyone you ever saw when Muni,
after asking him a score or so questions
about himself and his native land and his
language, wanted to know if he would like
to be his guest for a week or so and answer
a lot more questions!

The young man thought that would be
pleasant work and so he stayed on and
advised and assisted Muni all through the
picture. That was several years ago and it
isn't a bit surprising, if you know Paul,
to learn that the young Mexican is still a
member of the household. He looks after
the cars and supervises the gardeners and
goodness knows what. Anyhow, he is an
indispensable member of the household
and everyone is very happy about the
whole thing.

Sometimes Hollywood doors are aw-
fully exciting. But on the whole it
is the people inside the doors who get the
surprises, rather than the people who
knock. Barbara Stanwyck went into her
kitchen one day to find that a man had
knocked at the door and the cook had
given him one or two little jobs to do for
a meal. He was just polishing off a huge
sandwich and a glass of milk and Barbara,
all sympathy for anyone who found him-
self in such straits, inquired, "Have you
had all vou want?"

The man looked at her appraisingly and
then turned his attention to the bit of
sandwich which was still on his plate.
Deliberately he extracted a wisp of meat
from the corner of it. "I still have some
ham," he informed her, holding up the
wisp. "It would seem sort of appropriate
if I had a couple of fried eggs to go with
it!" And Barbara who had never encoun-
tered quite such an appetite before,
ordered the eggs and completely depleted
the family larder, arranging for what she
called "a slight snack" to take with him,
in case he should get hungry before he
got another job.

| Glenda Farrell lives in one of the
most confusing sections of the San
Fernando Valley, so she is accustomed to
knocks on her door at all hours of the day
and night. People are always losing them-
selves and dropping in to find out where
in the world they are and how can they
get out of there. So she was all helpful
sympathy one afternoon when a very
flushed and obviously distressed young
woman turned up in the front hallway,
asking to use the telephone. "It's dread-
fully urgent!" the girl said, in a tense
voice.

So Glenda just couldn't resist listening
just a little bit as her caller dialed a
number, tapped her fingers impatiently
while the connection was made. Then her
voice rang out, clear and strong. "Can
you tell me who won the third race at
Santa Anita this afternoon?" she shrilled.
"Oh! Oh, that's szoell!" She returned to
the hallway with a bounce, enveloped
Glenda in a fervid embrace. "You'll
never know what this meant to me!" she
cried. "Now I can do it!"

And away she went, buckity-buckity,
singing like everything and leaving
Glenda wondering what in the world this
project was which depended so definitely
and so urgently on "the third at Santa
Anita." Glenda thinks that maybe there
is a start for a scenario there.

■ Warren William's experience was
downright humiliating. Warren has a
passion for boats and likes to hobnob with
the old sailors who hang out around the
docks at San Pedro. Some of them came
to call upon him unexpectedly at his home
one day and a jolly time was had by all
until suddenly Warren, glancing at a clock,
clapped a hand to his forehead and cried,
"Omigosh! I've got an appointment for
a wave!"

In his anxiety to apologize to his guests
for darting off, he made the error of mak-
ing it clear that it was a permanent wave
in his hair that was agitating him. No
explanations about the exigencies of
picture work could ever make that right
with the old tars. Warren is definitely in
whatever the old sailors call their own
particular brand of doghouse. And how
he wishes he hadn't answered the door
when they came to call that day! It's a
fearsome thing to lose face with old sailors.

Whether it's a knocker, a doorbell, a
telephone or a postman's whistle . . . the
actor's life is fraught with something or
other when he answers. Goodness, how
fraught!

Touchdown for O'Brien

[Continued from page 23]

the game, all right. I may have moved
seventy yards that day, but not on the
field. I just squirmed around on the bench.
I made my yardage sitting down."

Ronald Reagan plays George Gipp, the
greatest backfield man ever seen at Notre
Dame. Gipp was greater than any of the
famous "Four Horsemen," one of the finest
athletes ever to don moleskins. He died
in 1919, at the end of the football season,
of pneumonia contracted when he went
into the game against Northwestern.

Reagan was a running guard and end
at Eureka College in 1931. He was a sports
broadcaster after leaving school. His voice,
as well as his clean, athletic appearance,
brought him to the attention of film tal-
ent scouts and he became an actor.

The picture is not a glorification of Notre
Dame or of Rockne. It is the story of any
team, any coach; the story of sportsman-
ship and an eulogy of American athletics.

Famous coaches, who would never con-
sent to appear in a motion picture except
as a tribute to the man they all knew,
fought and loved, will be in the film.

These men include Howard Jones, now
of the University of Iowa, who battled
Rockne when he was coach at the Uni-
versity of Southern California; Alonzo
Stagg, who fifteen years ago led the Uni-
versity of Chicago against Notre Dame,
now the grand old man of college football

at the College of the Pacific; Bill Spaul-
ding, coach now at the University of Cal-
ifornia at Los Angeles, who was at the
University of Minnesota against Rockne,
and Glenn "Pop" Warner, who sent Stan-
ford teams onto the field against Rockne.
Warner is now an advisory coach at Tem-
ple and San Jose State.

Once again the letters worn by Notre
Dame's greatest group of players — the
thrilling "Four Horsemen" — make their
appearance on the gridiron. These letters
have never been worn since they were
put aside by Harry Stuhldreher, "Sleepy"
Jim Crowley, Elmer Layden and Don
Miller.

Kane Richmond wears No. 5. He plays
Layden, at fullback. Richmond played at
St. Thomas College and the University of
Minnesota, when he attended school, at
center.

The part of Crowley, who was dubbed
"Sleepy" for about the same reason that
a bolt of lightning could be given that
name, is taken by Billy Byrne. Billy is
an assistant coach at Loyola University, at
Los Angeles. He wears No. 18, Crowley at
left half.

Bill Marshall dyed his light hair dark to
play the role of Don Miller, No. 16, at right
half. Marshall played at El Dorado Col-
lege and was a school chum of Buddy Rog-

ers. He was leader of a band that was
started by Buddy.

No. 33, Stuldreher, the famous Notre
Dame quarterback, is played by another
Notre Dame star, Nick Lukats. Lukats
played under Rockne at left half. He took
the ball over for the touchdown which
made the score Notre Dame, 27; U. S. C,
0, in 1930. That was the last touchdown
ever made by a Rockne team. Lukats was
All-American that year.

Nick, since leaving school, has been an
actor and a newspaperman. He doesn't
play Lukats in the picture. Maybe he
wasn't the type! He does a first-rate job,
though, as Stuhldreher and as coach for
the "Four Horsemen" before they go be-
fore the cameras.

Lloyd Bacon, who directs the picture,
played in the backfield at Santa Clara in
1906. Jesse Hibbs, his assistant director,
was All-American tackle (U. S. C.) in 1929.
Robert Buckner, who wrote the story, was
a sports writer on the New York World
and a football player at the University of
Virginia. Bob Haas , the art director,
played at the University of Pennsylvania.

■ Perhaps the greatest athlete of all
time has a part in the picture. That
man is Jim Thorpe, also an assistant di-
rector. Jim is an Indian, of the Sac and
Fox tribe. He attended Carlisle, the In-
dian school, where he played at fullback.
He has been on every sports authority's
all-time, All-American team for three
decades.

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In 1911, at Stockholm, Jim shattered
every record in the Decathalon at the
Olympic Games. The Decathalon is the
gruelling all-around athletic test that is
entered only by the best athletes.

Pat took off eighteen pounds for the pic-
ture. He and the men who play the "Four
Horsemen" were trained down to fighting
weight by Mushy Callahan, once junior
welterweight champion of the world. Most
of the training was on the handball court.

■ The story covers the life of Rockne
from his birth in Voss, Norway, to his
death in the airplane crash at Bazaar,
Kansas. He died, incidentally, on a trip to
Hollywood, where he was to discuss with
Universal studio executives the making of
a football motion picture. This picture,
The Spirit of Notre Dame, was made, with
J. Farrell McDonald playing the lead.

Knute's father, an expert carriage
builder, first came to America in 1893, to
bring one of his beautiful carriages as an
exhibit at the Chicago World's Fair. He
loved the country and sent for his family.
The father's part is played by John
Qualen, who gave such an unforgettable
performance in The Grapes of Wrath.

Qualen is a Norwegian. I asked Pat how

he felt taking the part of a Norwegian.

"I feel fine about it," Pat replied.
"They're great fighters, just like the Irish!
Notre Dame teams were called 'the fighting
Irish' and 'Rock' was often called the
'fighting Irishman.' "

Knute went to Northwest Division High
School, now Tuley High, in Chicago. He
learned his football and his baseball on
the city's sandlots. One of the high points
of the picture is a scene showing little
Knute's broken nose, smashed with a base-
ball bat during a sandlot game. The in-
jury, serious to his parents, is a badge of
honor to the boy as he comes home.

"Now I am an American," he says.

Rockne went to Notre Dame after he
finished high school. There he struck up
a firm friendship with Gus Dorais, an-
other great football player. Dorais is
played by Owen Davis, Jr., in the picture.

It was Rockne and Dorais who brought
the forward pass to full flower in football.
In 1913 they won the game against Army
with the brilliant passes from Dorais to
Rockne. In the Army game scenes Pat re-
fused a double. It is one of the most ex-
citing moments in the picture when Owen
heaves the ball and Pat grabs it out of
the air to dash across Army's goal.

'I always did want to make a touch-
down against Army," Pat grins. "I never
had that chance at Marquette."

■ When you stand on the sidelines and
watch these football scenes being

filmed you feel as though you are watching
a real game. Director Bacon hasn't made
the mistake of charting out all the plays so
that each player has to stand in just a cer-
tain place. The men go into their scrim-
mage as if the cameras were not there.
Pat, when he isn't before the camera,
tosses the ball around with Thorpe, or
Lukats, or anyone else who wants to play.
You can see why he won his letter at Mar-
quette as you watch the grace and speed
with which he moves.

■ Lyle Reifsnyder, the Warner property
man, was almost driven frantic when

Pat's children, Mavourneen, six, and Sean,
four, came out with their mother to the
field to "watch Daddy play." The O'Brien
youngsters systematically removed the
footballs from the field and concealed them
all in the O'Brien automobile. Pat inci-
dentally, has already enrolled Sean at
Notre Dame.

Rockne was an honor student in chem-
istry at Notre Dame. Albert Basserman
plays Father Julius Niewland, who chose
Rockne as his assistant in the school
laboratory.

There were two great educators at Notre
Dame during Rockne's career there,
Father O'Donnell and Father Cavanaugh.
These men served as models for Father
Callahan, president of Notre Dame, in the
picture. Donald Crisp plays this impor-
tant part. He delivers the Rockne funeral
eulogy in the Notre Dame Cathedral at
South Bend. The Notre Dame choir also
appears in these scenes.

Warners sent Pat, Crisp and most of the
company back to South Bend for scenes
on the campus. The students at the school
were used in the picture.

In the picture Rockne's developing
genius as a coach will be shown. He bor-
rowed the idea of the Notre Dame shift
from the chorus of a musical show. He re-
alized, when he saw the dancers swinging
their legs in concert, that rhythm and pre-
cision were important to football.

Every football season Rockne's name is
heard by the boys who turn out for any
squad, at any university in this country.
His ideals of fair play will never die among
the young men who love clean sport.

| One story Pat told me illustrates how
those who knew Rockne missed his
presence from the living when that tragic
plane crash came ten years ago. Stand-
ing in the rain, that morning, were a bunch
of little boys at a small station near South
Bend. They were waiting for the papers
to come on the train. The bundles were
hurled to the platform. One boy, about
nine, saw the headline which told of
Rockne's death. He picked up the top
paper on his bundle and let the others
fall into the rain-filled gutter. His tears
splashed on the wet sidewalk.

"Gee," he sobbed, "I'm not going to de-
liver these papers to my customers. I
don't want them to know about Rockne."

Double Trouble

[Continued from page 31]

both sides and at both ends. It was cer-
tainly a beehive of activity when Antiph-
olus of Ephesus (he's played by Allan
Jones) went hell-a-tearin' through it in
his bouncing chariot, hotly pursued by his
enemies in other bouncing chariots. I'll
give you the details of this a few pages
later.

That first day, as I say, was a cinch,
if I skip the striped sunburn effect on my
legs. It was also the most embarrassing
day I ever had working in movies. You've
heard about guys losing their shirts on
account of one thing or another. Well,
they're just also-rans when it comes to
comparing 'em with me. For instance:
There I was on this street, leaning against
a lamppost. Right beside me, gabbing
away as nonchalantly as you please was
Eileen Brandes, an extra gal and a honey
dressed up as a Greek cutie. We were
having quite a time giving good old Holly-
wood the once over when all of a sudden
along comes Antipholus of Ephesus
(Allan Jones — he also plays Antipholus
of Syracuse and sings a duet with him-
self) , Luce (Martha Raye) , Phyllis (Rose-
mary Lane) , Adriana (IreneHervey — she's
Allan Jones' wife, and boy! did she look
beautiful!) and last, but not least along
comes Dromio (Joe Penner) and, when
Dromio passes me and the Brandes gal,
what should he do but ask me for four-

bits for lunch, and to emphasize the
"touch" he gave my skirt a pull.

And down it comes!

Yessir! Right there in that beautiful
street with the sun shining, and with
everybody looking and guffawing, and
with me getting redder than the outside
of a ripe tomato. Eileen saved the day
by shoving me down an alley where I
managed to hide my embarrassment by
climbing into a vacant chariot and stay-
ing there until she got a prop boy to get
me another skirt.

B The morning of the second day almost
started with a bang. Just when
Director Edward Sutherland was about to
start shooting, Allan Jones began bawl-
ing out his stand-in, Tony Beard, some-
thing awful. And in a minute or so, Tony
began bawling out his boss. Pretty soon
the two of 'em stood toe-to-toe ready to
slam heck out of each other and me, being
not only curious, but a good friend of
Allan's, edged up close to Tony to maybe
take a crack at him when and if he should
start punching. The way those two men
insulted each other was something awful.
Each of them used fighting words and why
they didn't tear into each other was more
than I could figure out. Ditto for Joe
Penner, Rosemary Lane and Martha

Raye all of whom surrounded Allan,
when he and Tony had cooled down, and
begged him to hire a more courteous
stand-in. Allan promised to do so, but I
found out that afternoon from Tony that
the arguing and fighting was an "act"
the two of them always staged for
each new troupe. Actually they've been
together for four years and are the best
of friends.

Samuel S. Hinds who plays the role of
Aegeon (he gets himself executed during
the Festival of Athena) got the surprise
of his life that morning when the mail-
man from the studio came on the set and
handed him a letter — a love letter written
by the actor in 1893 to a childhood sweet-
heart. In 1893, so Hinds told me, he was
a student at the Andover prep school in
Massachusetts. It was there that he wrote
the letter to Elizabeth Gair, a neighbor of
his family in Brooklyn.

A letter from Miss Gair, which accom-
panied the love letter, explained that she
had just seen a motion picture for the
first time in five years. The film was
Deanna Durbin's, It's a Date, in which
Hinds had a leading role. Miss Gair
guessed correctly that the Hinds whose
name and face she saw on the screen was
her former sweetheart. She immediately
wrote to Hinds and sent him the love
letter and an Andover pin which originally
had accompanied it, because she, and we
quote, "thought he would be interested."
Unquote.

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■ All the morning was given over to
rehearsals of a big and elaborate
scene. When lunch time arrived Joe
Penner announced that he was going to
be host to the forty chorus girls used in
the dancing scenes. While not begrudg-
ing the girls a full meal, Joe naturally
thought that most of the dancers were
watching their figures (I noticed that Joe
was watching 'em, too!) and would there-
fore order sandwiches and other light
fare. Instead, the gals ordered complete
luncheons, the bill mounted sky-high and
Joe, cheerfully, but somewhat thought-
fully, paid a check that included one $5
item— a special birthday cake for one of
the dancers. What he doesn't know until
he reads this — if he ever does read it —
is that included among the forty girls was
one E. J. Smithson who snuck in with his
skirt, sandals, shirt, and headband and
saved himself a $1.25 luncheon. Skirts
have their value, after all.

It was this second day on the set that
I had the good fortune to meet Greta,
Myrna, Hedy, Lana and Carole. Five
swell young ladies they were, too. But
don't get me wrong. The last names of
the quintette are not those normally
associated with the given names. Greta,
Myrna, Hedy, Lana, and Carole were the
names of five maids in the movie.

Hi I almost got bounced right out of my
skirt and my job the third day and it
all had to do with a couple of two-bit
pieces and three little dimes I had- tueked-
away inside my blouse for eating pur-
poses come another lunch time.

The scene that was being shot called
for Joe Penner and a couple of us boys
from Syracuse to run around a Grecian
house. We rehearsed it without trouble.
Just when we thought Director Suther-
land was going to start shooting, the sound
man set up a loud squawk saying that the
sound track was catching a strange
tingling noise much like the tinkle of
hard money. So we rehearsed it again —
and with the same result — due, of course,
to me because I'd forgotten all about the
silver I had tucked away. Again the
sound man squawked and Director
Sutherland gave everybody a bawling
out. But still the strange sound pursued
him. Finally, Sutherland made us stand
still and let Joe do his running alone. No
tinkling. Then the same procedure with
the other extra. No tinkling. Then me!
And plenty of tinkle! And plenty of mule-
skinner words directed at me by both the
sound man and the director, all of which
I deserved, I'm honest enough to admit.
The sad and humiliating part of it all
was that the director got a substitute for
me, and I sat on the sidelines.

But thank goodness, there's always a
bright side to everything. As a sort of
recompense for my faux pas (Lookit! The
guy has been acting in a Greek picture
and has picked up French!) Allan Jones
and his wife invited me that night to
a Hollywood cafe to hear the orchestra's
featured arrangement of one of Allan's
songs in the film. A pleasant time was
had by all, especially me. But the next
morning was something different! Police
officers arrived at the Jones' menage

(there's another French word!) and
accused Allan of driving a stolen car.
The attendant at the cafe parking lot
had given Allan a car of identical model,
owned by Producer Joseph Mankiewicz
and actress Rose Stradner. The latter
couple had driven Allan's car home and
had not discovered the mistake until they
found a chair for the Jones baby in the
back.

■ And while we're on the subject of
"What's the Matter With the Jones
Family?" we might as well tell this one.
Both Allan and his wife Irene came on
the set with the sorrowful tale of the
stolen automobile. They had risen early,
they said, had a fine big breakfast and
were r'arin' to go. The first scene that
morning was one in which the couple sat
down together before another fine, big
breakfast! And they sat there and ate
and ate and ate until fifteen minutes to
eleven before the director okays the
scene!

And while we're still on the Jones
family let's set this one down. Possibly
the ultimate in "scene stealing" was
achieved by Jones when he virtually stole
a scene from himself. This occurred on
the fourth day of shooting. Allan, as I've
told you, plays a dual role, and in this
particular scene was supposed to sing a
duet with himself! Cameraman Joe
Valentine and Joe Fulton, trick photog-
rapher, collaborated on a shot for the
singing number. After one take, Valen-
tine and Fulton reported to Director
Sutherland that one of the Jones char-
acters was holding his hand over the other
Jones character's face! Thus Jones
attained the dubious honor of trying to
steal a scene from himself! You can't
beat the movies for fun!

H Well, since I'm running out of words,
I might as well get right down to
business and tell you what happened on
the fifth day. Which was plenty, believe
you me.

This day's work had to do with a very
dangerous sequence that required Jones
to drive onto a Grecian street hell-for-
chariot-wheels and pull up at the other
end of the street. To make the feat
doubly difficult Jimmy Phillips, veteran
studio horseman, reported that the four
horses Jones would drive were the most
spirited animals in Phillips' stables.
Director Sutherland insisted on getting a
double for this equine dido and there
was more than quite a bit of bickering
back and forth between the star and the
director — with the star winning hands
down. Jones, by the way, is one of Holly-
wood's most accomplished horsemen. He's
co-partner with Robert Young in owner-
ship and management of a riding stable
for which Jones himself trains and
"breaks" many of the horses. He really
knows this horse business from giddap
to whoa, and when he said "no" on the
double trouble, the neighs had it.

During the first rehearsal, and just as
Allan comes whirling into the street, one
of the chariot wheels falls off and starts
rolling all by its lonesome. I must have
been talking to either Myrna, Carole.

Lana, Greta, or Hedy, and not looking at
anything much — since it was merely a
rehearsal — when all of a sudden this
wheel came barging along unbeknownst
to me, and when it went past like a bat
out of the hot place my skirt caught in
the spokes — and there I was, trying to do
a balancing act like a seal on a rubber
ball. Only I didn't quite cut the mustard.
When I came to, I still had my fingers
gripped around a couple of spokes and I
could hear myself saying: "Hey, let me
up and I'll murder th' guy!" I guess that's
what comes of chinning with women
when you should be keeping an eye on
your work. Anyways, here I am today,
with my back bound up in twenty yards
of adhesive tape and my face looking like
it had been shaved with sandpaper.

Well, they rehearsed that scene four
times, so I learned later, and got an okay
on the fifth, with Jones doing a masterful
job of steering those four spirited hosses.
What made the scene the more dangerous
was that when he reached the end of the
street going pell-mell he had to draw up
his quartette of nags mighty fast and
sharp because the end of the street was
blocked off with another set. He just
HAD to stop or go on right through a
couple of buildings.

In addition to Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Joe
Penner and Samuel Hinds, the cast in-
cludes Alan Mowbray, Charles Butter-
worth and Eric Blore — and if you don't
think these three providers of screen
guffaws don't provide 'em for The Boys

From Syracuse in carload lots you're
laughingly mistaken.

Of course I may be wrong about this
Universal picture, but after looking, and
listening and working on it for five days,
reading the script, taking in the record-
ing of the songs, keeping a couple of eyes
on the dancing girls, talking with the
director, principals and everyone con-
nected with the making of it, I'm quite
willing to get myself out on a limb with
a prediction that The Boys From Syracuse
are going to give you one of the best
times you've ever had in a motion picture
theatre. It's that good.

Maggie Ettinger, the hard-working,
good-looking publicity lady just called up
from the Brown Derby saying if I was
smart I'd see Edward Small and ask him
for a job in his Kit Carson production.
The troupe is going on location some-
where beyond Flagstaff, Arizona, and I
might, so Maggie, the Magnificent, said,
hook on for a week's work including room
and found. After swishing around in a
blue skirt for five days and getting my
share of kicks in the togas, I guess I'd be
smart if I went back to playing one of
those big he-men of the wide open spaces
I ain't no Gene Autry or Buck Jones or
Roy Rogers or Tom Mix when it comes
to wearing chaps and straddling a hoss,
but I manage to stick on if I'm strapped
in so. . . .

If you'll git me my Boots I'll Skeedaddle!

See you next month from the hurricane
deck of a bucking broncho. I hope.

EVER**0?/
tfX*?. AT

Sun on the smooth Pacific is Deanna Durbin's idea of a perfect background for
relaxation after weeks of shooting on her new film, Spring Parade. Her sailor suit
is of dark blue silk. The shoes are a platform-soled version of Mexican huaraches

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Just so lhat he would feel at home, Gene Autry borrowed a mount from one of the
riders in The American Jubilee, spectacular review at the New York World's Fair

Star of Many Talents

[Continued from page 26]

sarily a new personality; merely a newly-
exposed facet of a many-sided performer.
The role was a challenge that met her
two tests, and having determined that it
was worth while and feasible she did it
up to the hilt.

Smart alecks among the critics ap-
plauded her as a brave actress for de-
liberately deglamorizing herself.

"It takes courage for a leading lady to
appear in fifty-cent costumes," they com-
mented. "The little lady martyrized
herself by wearing pigtales and sweaters."

"Bunk!" Miss Rogers retorts to this.
"The Primrose Path character was one
that simply had no relation to the ball-
room slickies and society snips I've done
in the past. The absence of make-up
from my face was no affectation either;
just an honest attempt to approximate
the character."

The lady has no mannerisms because
she doesn't remain static long enough to
acquire them. The no-make-up appear-
ance in Primrose Path was the outcome
of some experimentation. A few days
before the start of production she made
the usual tests to determine hair-do, cos-
tumes and lighting. Director Gregory
LaCava liked her features best in a cer-
tain scene.

"So be it," Ginger said. "That was the
one with absolutely no make-up. I didn't
want to tell you for fear you'd think I
was going arty on you. But since it shapes
up closest to the character, let's leave me
that way."

And it was done.

The new Rogers hair color is a result
of the same kind of empirical study. The
best way to describe it, according to ex-

perts in such things, is "ash with a dash
of brilliance." There was not a single
adverse criticism of it in Primrose Path,
and since her next role is also an "in-
formal" Ginger retains the new shade for
Lucky Partners, her latest picture at RKO.

Lucky Partners is high comedy. It also
marks the first time Ronald Colman has
shared star billing.

Once she has visualized herself in the
part, Ginger will place all her talents un-
reservedly at the director's disposal and
respond to his creative interpretation like
a well-tuned musical instrument. Fred
Astaire has described Ginger as just that,
"an instrument always capable of virtuoso
performance."

31 Lucky Partners was considerable
adapted at the hands of American
scenarists to naturalize its essentially
Gallic humor. (It was written by Sacha
Guitry, brilliant French playwright.) The
first plan was to discover Ginger as a
clerk in a rather shabby booknook in
New York's Greenwich Village. Good
fortune is brought to her by a chance
acquaintance, a painter down on his luck
who has been reduced to peddling por-
traits at thirty-five cents each. That would
be Mr. Colman.

At Ginger's insistence, they each buy
half a sweepstakes ticket. Their number
draws an entry in the Grand National
and each, out of consideration for the
other, peddles his share to a speculator.

Lucky Partners isn't Ginger's first
appearance opposite a mature star of
great acting attainments. Star of Mid-
night, with William Powell, marked her
debut in that league. Nor does it mean

that she has given up screen dancing for-
ever. All it does mean is that this spring
Miss Rogers is pitching into a new type
of role.

Collaterally with her screen progres-
sion, the label-proof prodigy of Holly-
wood is usually carrying on a systematic
campaign to polish up some corners of
her private life.

| As a vaudeville kid she learned jazz-
piano by the pick-and-hunt method of
chord manufacture, superimposed on a
classical piano course. She concentrated
so hard on the keyboard that she was
able to turn out three songs acceptable
to publishers. They were not record-
smashing hits, but they earned a decent
bit of money and are still occasionally
revived. This was in the days when the
name of Ginger Rogers meant nothing
in Tin Pan Alley. The tunes and lyrics
were bought on merit, not to cash in on
a celebrity's reputation.

Oil painting was the next art to engage
her talents. She labored lustily at it and
some of her enthusiasm overflowed like
lava and ignited the creative tinder in the
soul of Janet Gaynor. Pretty soon both
of them were knee-deep in palettes and
pigments. With Ginger the painting
phase dissolved into the Charcoal Period,
but Janet kept on in the path of Rubens
and Titian, and today her house is filled
with canvases created by her own pretty
hands.

When building was in progress at

the Rogers home, Ginger's mother
secretly gave orders for the construction
of a mignon of a studio adjoining the
cabanas beside the swimming pool. Here
Ginger installed herself for a hand-to-
hand struggle with the art and mystery
of sculpture, an entirely new medium but
one she felt confident she could lick.

The struggles in the tiny studio were
titanic. Sometimes Ginger had two meals
a day served at the ringside where she
was going to the mat with shapeless and
obstinate masses of clay. Sometimes ser-
vants took the meals away untouched.

The week before Christmas Ginger
emerged from the art arena with a very
creditable bust of her mother, done en-
tirely from memory. It has since been
cast in bronze and its creator feels that
she has licked another medium.

| This sort of limited monomania is dis-
tinctly not normal for Hollywood.
The standard layoff pursuits of most stars
run to dog-mothering, harpoon-throwing
(with their fellow-stars as targets), and
the great game of playing the three-horse
parlay at the race tracks. In some
quarters Ginger is thought to be posi-
tively unsocial because she chooses to
lock herself into creative trances once a
year or so.

When she is about to embark on a new
part the symptoms are about the same.
She becomes inaccessible to her volun-
teer advisers, locking herself up with her
script and trying to get inside the author's

mind. During these spells she has no odd
moments for reading, radio, telephonitis
and the normal pursuits of a successful
and personable young actress.

Lela Rogers, Ginger's mother and for
years the straw-boss of the family, has
retired gracefully to the job of boss-
emeritus. Ginger is a full-fledged star
with a business brain made of Swedish
steel and she now makes all the decisions,
with Lela acting as a sort of sounding
board and reflector for her daughter's
opinions.

They make a redoubtable combination:
mellowed experience and the full-grown
kid who won't be stopped.

E3 The movie community is faintly
annoyed by the good taste the
Rogerses display in everything, even in
the matter of arranging Ginger's divorce
from Lew Ayres. The whole affair was
in very good taste.

Ginger's allegation was that Mr. Ayres
deserted her four years ago and suggested
she go home to Mother. Desertion is the
daintiest grounds for divorce that has
ever been conceived in California. The
inexcusable thing about Ginger's charge
was that it was literally true, as all literate
Americans know by now.

What future is there for a girl with
good taste, a restless talent that will still
be unexplored ten years from now, and
a determination never to come in second
in anything? Write your own ticket, with
stopover privileges for purposes of fun.

SHE OFTEN FELT "LEFT OUT OF
THINGS"... HER GLASS SAID

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The Sea Hawk

[Continued from page 29]

with color against a background of ropes
and spars, green harbor water, and the
quaint old eaves of Dover town. Thorpe
approached the carpeted dais where he
must kneel to receive the sword tap that
would give him the title "Sir." Cameras
turned, onlookers held their breath at the
gorgeous spectacle . . .

And in that solemn moment Alan Hale
tripped over Errol's sword, fell down
boom, and slid across the resined deck on
his tummy.

He stopped the show. "Ooops!" cried the
Queen. And Flynn folded up on the dais
step and howled.

Still, as it turned out, Alan wasn't by
any means the only one who took a tumble
before the production ended. Most of the
others, however, fell into the "ocean";
intentionally or otherwise.

The studio built two full-sized sixteenth
century craft on the enormous stage, and
a brave sight they were with their painted
armorials and gilded prows. One, of course,
was Errol's; the second, the Madre di Dios,
was his antagonist's. Into the two boats
went enough lumber to build 250 four-
room cottages. Each was about 180 feet
over all, and together they cost $150,000
of the million and a half spent on the film.

Altogether, they merited the "lunch-
ing" held for them at a studio party where
seven girls from seven lands gave Errol
seven vials filled from the seven seas, to
break on the bows of the vessels. The
place was so full of pretty damsels that the
name of the picture could well have been
changed to "The Chicken Hawk."

The craft were practical, too, not merely
for looks. Before certain sequences the
stage was flooded to a considerable depth
and the ships could actually sail for forty
feet into a scene. Which, on a sound stage,
is some feat.

But to get back to those people who fell
into the "ocean," and did it so often that
the production was dubbed "Webfooted"
among its friends. The rival ships met in
a whale of a battle when Errol captured
the vessel on which were Maria and her
uncle, the Spanish Ambassador to London.
As is usual with the movies, the fight
lasted for days, and the rival crews de-
veloped a humorous feud. Between takes
they leaned from their adjacent riggings
and sent one another kersplash. All in the
interests of good, clean fun.

In the thick of this battle, while steel
clashed and cannon thundered, Errol made
a daring leap from his own deck to that of
the enemy. Sword in hand, he fought his
way to the hold to free the English prison-
ers chained as galley slaves. Then he
raced to the upper deck to join in the fray
again.

Here his attention was attracted by the
leaded amber windows of an officer's
cabin. He thrust open the door and stood
amazed at the magnificence of the furnish-
ings. The rare old pewter and silver,
table and chairs in this scene, by the way,
were insured for nearly $100,000. He saw
a table set for dinner, the heavy silver
platters and goblets twinkling in the light
of candles burning in gold candlesticks.

And here he caught his first sight of
Maria. Her yellow gown with its fine
white ruff was in strong contrast with the
dark panels of the wall against which she
leaned. Maria was terrified, but defiant.
He swept her a bow, with a grin of pure
deviltry for her expression of an embattled
kitten. Maria acknowledged this amenity
with a look that said she'd like to kill him,
and would try to, the instant an oppor-
tunity offered.

"Pirate!" she remarked.

He didn't, on the whole, make a good
impression at this first meeting. But Maria
did!

■ Long before noon on the first day's
shooting of that sea fight, the com-
batants were half smothered by the smoke
of their own cannon, and half starved
after all the violent exercise. Came the
lunch hour, but Director Curtiz made no
move toward the commissary until Errol
as a reminder adroitly slid a menu under
the directorial arm.

It worked. But to safeguard the future,
Errol conferred with an electrician. Next
day on the stroke of twelve, in the middle
of a dignified scene on the Madre di Dios
with Spanish Ambassador Claude Rains
. . . BONG-NG-NG-NG!! Curtiz nearly
jumped overboard. The electrician had
rigged up an alarm clock to the ship's bell.
They ate on time that day, no foolin'.

But the scenario had things in store for
Errol which made a delayed meal insig-
nificant. Trouble followed him like a
camera boom, for, as everybody is aware,
in the life of a cinema hero the disasters
come fast and plentiful as close-ups. First
thing you knew, Thorpe was off to Panama
to intercept King Philip's treasure cara-
van as it toiled across the Isthmus. And
such was the web of treachery spun about
Elizabeth's court by Philip's agents, that
Thorpe suspected even Maria — and left in
secret. He didn't receive her warning
that the Spaniards knew of his plans.

| For the Panama jungle scene, they as-
sembled over 200 kinds of South
American trees and shrubs and vines —
$10,000 worth — on a foundation of ditches
and water pipes. There were eight acres
of it. The moist heat, the scent of leaves
and flowers, were overpowering. It was

an area of dark, forbidding beauty.

Through this tangled maze crept Thorpe
and his men, ready to pounce on the mule-
drawn treasure wagons — w h i 1 e King
Philip in faraway Spain chuckled over the
counter-ambush his spies had engineered.
Montagu Love, in the role of Philip, was
ruling his twelfth kingdom. During the
past thirty years he has played twelve
kings, eight princes, five dukes, and three
dictators. He holds the celluloid record
for jobs of the sort.

Philip proved too crafty for Thorpe. A
prisoner, the Englishman was brought
back to Spain, but in a hairbreadth escape
he reached London and met Maria — of all
people — riding in a coach . . . Errol Flynn
had been through a lot in the jungle and
on the prison ship — but Brenda Marshall
as Maria suffered more when she had to
propose to him and make her offer good
with a kiss.

Q Brenda — herself brought up roman-
tically on her father's sugar plantation
in the Philippines — had played only one
important role previously on the screen.
She had never kissed a man in front of the
camera. And for the first one to be the
famous Errol Flynn — ! While she waited
for the coach scene, she tried to conceal
her nervousness. But Errol noticed the
trembling hands.

"I believe you're the second shyest per-
son in Hollywood," he said gently, "I'm
the first . . . But don't be frightened,

Brenda. Remember, I'm more scared of
this scene than you are!"

That made her laugh. They climbed
into the ornate coach. "I love you!" Maria
said to Francis Thorpe without nervous-
ness. She leaned forward, hesitated an
instant, and kissed him on the lips —
fervently. The very first take was okay.

I | Not so the first take of another scene
they shared! Curtiz, whose wild Hun-
garian accent is a constant delight and
puzzle, wanted a fanfare of trumpets to
announce the entrance of Brenda and
Errol at a certain point. He was under-
stood to order it played "good and hot!"
The trumpeters, surprised but obedient,
played it good and hot; and before Curtiz
recovered from his stupefaction, Brenda
and Errol, getting into the spirit of the
thing, entered with knees prancing, heads
bobbing and fingers waggling, like a pair
of snazzy jitterbugs.

Gilbert Roland (the Spanish Captain
Lopez) , Donald Crisp (Sir John Burleson)
and Una O'Connor (Maria's duenna),
broke into spontaneous applause from the
sidelines. But it seems what Curtiz had
said was "good and hard."

| Despite these lighter moments, trouble
continued to dog the hero. Hardly
had he made good and returned to the
comparative safety of London than he met
traitorous Lord Wolfingham (Henry Dan-

iell) in a corridor of Elizabeth's palace —
and was that a duel! It lasted eight
hours.

The duel took place on one of the finest
sets of the picture — a truly splendid cor-
ridor flanked by sixty-foot columns. Be-
tween "takes" of the sword play, a man
with a vacuum cleaner went over the vast
red and orange rug before Elizabeth's
throne (imagine!) which could be seen
through an open door. Somebody else
dusted the precious antiques.

Yet what came in for the most exquisite
care were not antiques, but the six hun-
dred giant candles, of no remarkable
value, which lighted the corridor. Six-
teen men tended them. To preserve the
candles in their half burned condition,
they were checked and numbered and
registered in a ledger before being placed
tenderly one by one in slots provided in a
cabinet. The cabinet was then locked by
the head prop man, who put the key in a
studio safe!

You see, there were to be additional
scenes in the corridor with Maria and the
Queen hurrying in as the duel ended. But
the additional scenes were not to be shot
until the following week. So Curtiz wanted
the candles to match exactly.

While they were checking up on the
candles, somebody else, who was checking
up on other things, discovered Claude
Rains pampering his pet superstition. For
this, Curtiz presented him with the rubber
{Continued on -page 56]

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Grandma's Gift

to Hollywood

Margaret Lindsay's Grandma is a famous cook
and she guarded her recipes like state secrets
until recently when her famous granddaughter
persuaded her to give some choice ones to you

By BETTY CROCKER

■ At last Margaret
Lindsay has prevailed
on her grandmother to give
us some of the recipes that
made her the envy of all
who came to her big home
in Dubuque, Iowa — and
here they are!

Only because Margaret is
her favorite grand-daugh-
ter did Mrs. Margaret Kies,
eighty-five years old and

only now turning grey, con-
sent to tell her precious
secrets, and then only after
much coaxing during Mar-
garet's recent visit to her
home city.

Among Margaret's most
delightful memories of her
childhood, are her visits to
Grandmother Kies for some
of the delicacies that were
cooked in one of the two

kitchens in the Kies home. Yes, two
kitchens — one for general cooking, and
one for pastries! German and French
foods were her specialty, and everyone
in town looked forward to a dinner invita-
tion at the Kies home because they knew
from experience that the table would be
loaded with unusual foods. The recipes
were Grandma's secret. And Grandma
Kies was just the one who wouldn't tell!
At least, not until this last trip home.

Margaret visited her grandmother re-
cently after completing The House of
Seven Gables and they did a lot of rem-
iniscing about Margaret's childhood —
how Grandmother Kies taught her to
speak French when she was six — how
Margaret used to bring all her little play-
mates over for a "picnic lunch" in the
backyard — and how the two of them spent
hours playing rummy.

When guests arrived for dinner, the
table literally groaned with platters and
trays of good things. At least three kinds
of meats were served at dinner time — leg
of veal, roast beef and baked ham. Or
there would be pork chops, steak and
sauerbraten. If only two kinds of meat
appeared for the entree, Grandmother
Kies would apologize profusely.

Besides the entree, there would be trays
of head cheese (named "Pig's Foot Jelly"
by Grandmother Kies, because her recipe
called for no "head"), tiny beets pickled
with hard-boiled eggs, Koch Kaese.

In her soups, instead of rice or noodles,
Grandmother Kies uses Reeblys (Egg
Rivels), prepared as follows:

1 cup flour
% tsp. salt
1 egg

Sift flour and salt together. Break egg
into the middle, working it into the flour
until the mixture looks like coarse corn-
meal. Drop into boiling soup. Cover and
boil gently for about 10 minutes. Serve
immediately.

LEBKUCHEN
Vz cup honey

1 egg

1 tbsp. lemon juice

1 tsp. grated lemon rind

2% cups sifted all-purpose flour

% tsp. soda

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. cloves

1 tsp. allspice

1 tsp. nutmeg

% cup chopped citron

% cup chopped nuts

Mix the honey and molasses and bring
to a boil, then cool thoroughly. Add the
brown sugar, well beaten egg, lemon juice
and rind. Mix and sift the flour, soda,
cinnamon, cloves, allspice and nutmeg and
stir into the honey and sugar mixture.
Add citron and nuts. Let stand overnight
in refrigerator. In the morning roll out
to V4-inch thickness and cut with oblong
cooky cutter, about 2V2x4 inches. Place
cookies very close together on greased

heavy baking sheet. Bake in a moderate-
ly hot oven, 400°, for 15 minutes. Immed-
iately on removing from oven, spread icing
over all the cookies before removing them
from pan. This will make 5 dozen cookies.

Glazing Icing for Lebkuchen

Boil 1 cup sugar and Vz cup water until
first indication of a thread appears, 230°.
Remove from heat, stir in % cup confec-
tioners' sugar, and use for glazing cookies.
Amounts: Icing for 3 dozen cookies.
Notes: If icing becomes stiff before
cookies are all covered, reheat slightly,
adding a bit of water, so that it can be
spread easily with a brush.

SAUERBRATEN

Part 1

6 lb. beef rump roast

2 tbsp. salt, I tsp. pepper

2 cups vinegar
About 3 qt. cold water
6 bay leaves

6 whole cloves
1 tsp. peppercorns

1 large onion (sliced)

Part 2

3 carrots (cut in long strips)

2 large onions (sliced)

1 cup finely crushed gingersnaps
1 tbsp. sugar

Part 1

Wipe meat with damp cloth. (If meat
seems extra fat, take off excess suet and
save for searing.) Place meat in large
enamel bowl or stone jar. (Do not use
any metal affected by acid.) Sprinkle with
salt and pepper. Make a spiced vinegar
by adding vinegar and enough cold water
to cover the meat . . . then adding bay
leaves, cloves, peppercorns, and the sliced
onion. Cover, and let stand in a cold place
3 to 5 days . . . turning meat occasionally.

FREE

Pennsylvania Dutch Recipes

When we think of Pennsylvania Dutch we
think of good food. One just naturally
seems to mean the other. Betty Crocker
has made a real study of the famous foods
from different parts of the country — and
she will be glad to send you a selection
of these treasured old Pennsylvania
Dutch recipes which have woven them-
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HOLLYWOOD Magazine
1501 Broadway, New York City.
Dear Betty Crocker:

Please send me your selection of
Pennsylvania .Dutch recipes.

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Part 2

When ready to use, drain meat. Sear
on all sides with suet in a roaster in a very
hot oven (500°) or in a Dutch oven on top
of the stove. (If cut of meat lacks fat, a
little salt pork may be used to sear it.)

In the meantime, heat the spiced vinegar
drained from the meat just to the boiling
point. Strain through cheesecloth.

When meat is seared, add carrots, the 2
onions, and 1 cup of the hot spiced vinegar.
Cover, and cook at low temperature (in
slow oven, 300°, or on top of stove) until
meat is tender (about 2% to 3 hours). As
meat cooks, add more spiced vinegar to
keep plenty of liquor in bottom of pan (it
will take 2 to 3 cups more) .

When meat is tender, remove from
roaster or Dutch oven. Strain the liquor
to remove cooked vegetables. Remove
excess fat which rises to top. Add enough
spiced vinegar or water to the strained
liquor to make 5 cups in all . . . and return
to roasting pan. Place over low heat and
slowly add the finely crushed gingersnaps
and sugar . . . stirring constantly until
gingersnaps dissolve and gravy becomes
smooth. (If necessary, beat with rotary
beater to smooth out lumps.) Return
meat to roaster with gravy, cover, and
cook gently (in a slow oven, 300°, or

on top of stove) for 10 minutes longer.
Serve at once. Noodles or Potato Pan-
cakes are the traditional accompaniment
for this roast. Red Cabbage is an appro-
priate vegetable.

SUPREME DE VOLAILLE

(Breast of Chicken Under Bell)
(Individual Servings)

1 breast of spring chicken

2 mushrooms

1 round piece of toast

1 slice Virginia ham

1 cup brown chicken sauce

% cup white wine

1 fine chopped shallot

Saute breast of chicken in butter about
15 minutes. Add shallots and a second
later, add white wine. Let white wine
evaporate. Now add brown gravy and
piece of sweet butter. Cover up and let
cook 5 minutes more. Put toast in
casserole and on top of toast one slice
baked Virginia ham. Now put breast of
chicken on top of ham. Garnish with
mushrooms, pour sauce over everything.
Cover with bell. Put in hot oven until bell
is crystal clear. If individual casseroles
are not obtainable, this can be prepared in
quantity in any ordinary casserole.

Can you name the movie title suggested by each of the phrases given below? Remem-
ber that the phrase suggests only the title, not the subject matter or plot, of the picture.
Example: The phrase "A one-eyed physician" would suggest the picture title "Dr.
Cyclops" although the picture itself does not concern a one-eyed physician. Par for
the course is three out of five. Four is very good, five is excellent. Answers, page 58.

1. Little Sir Echo being paged by his ma

2. Low cards up high

3. Crusoe's friend in Technicolor

4. A one-man labor dispute

5. Why the fruit of the African palm tree isn't a lemon...

The Sea Hawk

[Continued from page 53]

booby, a medal given to anyone who pulls
a boner on the set. The recipient keeps it
till a fellow player pulls a worse one.

Claude got the rubber booby for wear-
ing his Spanish Ambassador trunks wrong
side out. On purpose. He says it's lucky.
And, right side or wrong, he didn't like
the trunks. "These Elizabethan rompers!"
he complained, "they don't even have a
pocket to keep a rabbit's- foot in!"

H It wasn't long before the rest of the
cast began to think that a rabbit's foot,
and a big one, might be a darn good idea
for each of them. Players in the jungle
sequence had congratulated themselves
at its end that no scene could be more
r.rduous and hot and sticky. Whew! But

a more arduous scene, more hot and mere
sticky, lay ahead.

On a morning when the mercury
touched 91°, the principals of the cast had
to climb into their sweltering sixteenth
century duds and devour a feast of roast
mutton and capon, veal and beef, coney
and salted fish.

And — this is the pay-off — they had to
devour it not only with their fingers, but
with every sign of keen enjoyment and
appetite, all the morning from eight o'clock
on. Had to devour it three times . . .

They! Hollywood players, whose faces
are their fortunes, whose figures are their
careers, and whose ordinary breakfast is
a sip of black coffee and a prayer that
their hips will stay "down"!

Inside Report on The
Dictator

[Continued from page 21]

his fervent reply "It was a great thrill
to have a man like Chaplin say, 'You're
the guy!' Charlie had seen me play-
ing a wise guy," he explained, "and
wanted a brash type for the part. I was
so surprised that I asked him the same
thing you're asking me. 'I saw you in The
Sap From Syracuse twelve years ago', he
told me, 'and you caught my eye.' All I
could think of was that if I'd caught his
eye and held it all that time I must be
the champion endurance eye-catcher or
else that he had the longest memory in
Hollywood. But, then, Chaplin is full of
surprises. I was knocked speechless — for
once. It came like a shot out of a gun. I'd
just got back from Europe when Charlie
called me on the phone and said, 'Jack,
how would you like to play Mussolini?' I
thought he was kidding. 'No, I mean it,' he
said. 'If you haven't anything better to do,
come over and see me.' When I got to
his studio, all out of breath, Charlie
saluted me, and I played the old army
game right back at him. Then I stood at
attention in headquarters. 'Sit down,' said
Charlie. I'd no sooner parked myself in
the nearest chair — the old legs were
wobbly — than he said, 'Stand up.' He ran
his eyes over me and barked, 'You've gone
thin on me!' "

Signor Oakie buttoned his coat and tried
his best to look shriveled.

"You see, I'd lost sixty-two pounds on
my European trip. In shedding them, it
had never occurred to me that I might be
throwing away the chance of a lifetime.
I almost broke down and cried. 'Never
mind,' said Charlie, 'go and put the clothes
on for him.' When I came back in uni-
form, wearing my own hair under a mili-
tary cap, he took one squint at me and
shouted, 'Holy macaroni, you look just
like him!' This was such a relief to me
that I threw my arms around him and
hugged him. Breaking the clinch, he said,
'Stick your chin out.' I gave him all the
lip I had. 'That does it,' he decided. But,
delighted as I was, I couldn't help feeling
he ought to have an Italian for the part.
'What do I want a wop to play it for?' he
asked. Then he inquired, 'What's your
nationality?' 'Scotch-Irish,' I told him.
'Perfect!' he laughed."

It was all set, even without a test. For
that matter, Oakie was sure no one had
been tested for the part. It was simply
dropped into his lap, a ripe plum that
hadn't waited for the picking.

" 'There's only one thing you need to do
to play Benzino Gasolini to my Adenoids
Hinkle,' Charlie told me, 'and that's to
fatten up. It won't take you long.' Ha
seemed to think I had a natural talent for
getting fat, while all I thought of was get-
ting a fat part. Anyhow, I didn't lose any
time. That night I went to an Italian
restaurant for dinner and told the chef to
spread the oil. When I weighed in for the
picture, Chaplin insisted on my having
two desserts for lunch every day. 'Just
remember to stick out your chin, and

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NEXT MONTH
Read Jeanette MacDonald's personal mail, and see just how a star answers invitations,
phrases "thank-you" notes, orders gifts. Don't miss this star's fascinating series of letters
to a fan, or the interesting pictures of the note-paper that she uses for different occasions.
Also, in September HOLLYWOOD, on the stands August 10, you will find the complete
list of winners of beautiful prizes in the Silly-Dilly Contest!

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leave the rest to nature,' was the way he
put it. 'And don't play to me, be just as
you would with any other comic' "

| As to whether there were more than
the two recognizable figures, Hinkle
and Gasolini, in the picture, was
learned: "There are five or six prin-
cipals, including Goring and Goebbels,
under other names. But Stalin isn't one
of them. He has such a dead pan that it
would be impossible to burlesque him.
Paulette Goddard plays Hitler's girl, and
I have a wife. Out of consideration for
Chaplin, I don't want to give away the
secrets of the plot, but Hitler (he kept
getting back to real names) is a little
envious of Mussolini. He spreads himself
through Hitler's palace, and is so arrogant
when they have their last get-together in
that railway car— oh, yes, that's in the pic-
ture— that Hitler gets peeved and wants to
know, 'Did you arrange this meeting?' It's
a laugh."

| Certainly the telling of it, in the inim-
itable Oakie manner, sounded funny.
And, obviously, Chaplin was talking for
the first time in pictures.

"Yes, with something like a German
dialect. He sputters a lot and sounds like
an asthmatic soda fountain when he isn't
getting his own way. I've got a dialect,
too, that's supposed to be Italian and it's
very chesty. We're like a couple of uglies
bouncing around to make out one is a
bigger shot than the other. But the real
idea back of Hitler and Mussolini is that
they're just two ham actors trying to beat
each other to the center of the stage."

Sounded like a good idea. But in the
race did Charlie shuffle?

"No, he doesn't even walk, just struts.
You'll swear it's Hitler when you see him.
Only Charlie's mustache is the same as
ever. Why not? He had it long before
Hitler copped it as part of his make-up.
That's what makes it a natural for Chaplin.
When he isn't strutting he's saluting. He
salutes everything and everybody in sight.
It will make your arm ache to watch
Charlie and your stomach ache from
laughing at him. What you see and hear
will be a new Charlie Chaplin, perhaps in
his last picture. He told me, 'I'm trying
to make it my biggest picture.' It is trav-
esty based on truth. It doesn't take one
side or the other. There is no propaganda
in it. But it has one unmistakable mean-
ing, one definite purpose. Charlie hates
war. Not only does he see it as something
ghastly and horrible, but needless and
foolish. The fact that he himself is
British doesn't affect his attitude in the
least. It's simply that he is against war
as destructive, inhuman and futile, and
he is determined to do what he can to
stop it."

| Just here, Jack Oakie was not his
usual bantering self. For once, he
had turned serious. And earnestness
marked his further words:

"Working with Chaplin convinced me
beyond any personal doubt that he is a
genius. There's no one in Hollywood like
him. In the four months I was in the

picture I learned more about acting than
I had during all the years I'd put in at it.
Without my even realizing it at first, he
started right in making me over. In the
nine years I'd been carrying that old foot-
ball for Paramount the one thing ham-
mered into me was speed. Everything I
did had to be quick stuff, the fly guy who
was too fast for anybody to catch up with
him. Chaplin changed all that. He would
stop me in a scene and suggest my doing
it in another way. At the moment I didn't
understand what he was after. But it was
clear enough when I saw it on the screen
in the projection room. A glance showed
me how he got his effects. Then he would
say, 'All you have to do, Jack, is to take
your time. If, for example, you're soaking
a guy over the head with a mallet don't
do it bing, bing, bing, but bing — bing —
bing. That gives the audience time to
laugh between each sock.' His timing is
wonderful. But when it comes to the
clock, Chaplin has no sense of time. As a
rule, it would be the middle of the day
before we really started doing any work.
Then Charlie would forget all about time.
We were still at it one night when his
assistant reminded him that it was nine
o'clock. 'Good Lord,' said Chaplin, T
thought it was about four in the after-
noon!' All along he had been too busy
thinking of the picture to think about
anything else. He not only wrote it, but
wrote the whole musical background for
it. Then, as director, every decision was
up to him."

Had Chaplin decided to name his pic-
ture The Dictator?

"I think he'll call the picture The Great
Dictator, but so far it still is call Pro-
duction No. 6. You know, just playing
Mussolini with him will mean seven years'
insurance to me. When Charlie gave me
the part, I said to him, T hope you do for
me what you did for Jackie Coogan.'
'I'm already doing a lot more in the way
of salary,' he said with a laugh. He paid
Jackie the most he'd ever paid anybody in
his company till I came along. So every
day when we were ready to start work,
Charlie would sing out to me, 'Come on,
you high-priced actor!' Then he would
add, 'Remember the chin.' Will I ever
forget it? I'd start thinking about it while
shaving in the morning, and talk to it, too,
saying, 'Chin, you've got a hard day ahead
of you, so do your stuff and don't do any
receding.' Then I'd go to the studio and
stick it out like a palooka asking for it in
a preliminary fight. Even when I got
through with my job at Chaplin's I wasn't
through with the chin-work. Coming here
to the Shirley Temple picture, I found I
had to work just as hard to forget to
stick it out! But I'm back to normal now."

ovie iV

asquerade

Answers

Son, My Son

Flying Deuces.

Blac

k Friday.

The

Lone Wolf Strikes.

It's

a Date.

2 MM.I 4H rR»iV« a o

" 1

■

^22

■

ACROSS

1. Paramount crooner.

6. She has title role in Irene.

11. Words of a part in a screenplay (sing.).

12. Betty in Grandpa Goes to Town.

13. Name of Hollywood's so-called "wonder dog."

14. Initials of Minerva TJrecal.

15. , He's Making Byes at Me.

17. Miss Lamour's nickname.

18. Miss Hervey's initials.

19. A star of The House Across the Bay.

22. Initials of Neil Hamilton.

23. What actor says while trying to remember
lines.

24. Tear Squad.

25. Pronoun used in Biblical films.
27. The Biscuit .

29. A weapon of One Million B. C.

30. Phoebe in The House of Seven Gables.

31. Exclamation' to register contempt.

32. A star of Saps at Sea.
35. Secrets of a .

38. Pedro Cordoba.

39. Cedric Hardwicke's title.

41. For Love Money.

42. Mr. Bellamy's initials.
44. Abe in Illinois.

47. Initials of Mary Nash.

48. Descriptive of meat preferred by 13 Across.

50. Santa Marshal.

51. Birthplace of 32 Across (abbr.).

52. What Lewis Stone is to Mickey Rooney in
Hardy series.

53. The girl in Texas Stagecoach.

55. Spencer Tracy likes this sport.

56. Olivia de Havilland's relationship to Mrs.
Brian Aherne.

57. Marty Allen in An Angel from Texas.

DOWN

1. A star of The Dark Command.

2. She was Mrs. Leslie in Everybody's Hobby.

3. And Was Beautiful.

4. Initials of Miss Eilers.

5. A star of The Doctor Takes a Wife.

6. Women Without .

7. His last name is Shean.

8. Susan and .

9. The - - Has Wings.

10. Miss Brackett in Convicted Woman.

14. Birthplace of Gladys George (abbr.).

16. Five Little Peppers Home.

19. He's a comedian.

20. Roscoe in The Ghost Comes Home.

21. Lamour-Preston screenplay.
23. 'And" in French film titles.
26. Initials of Edward Ellis.

28. Another star of The Doctor Takes a Wife.

29. First name of Director Wood.

32. Orchestra leader of Buck Benny Rides Again.

33. Initials of Mr. Dix.

34. Short for first name of Mr. McLaglen.

36. Cyclops.

37. Charlie Chaplin's birthplace.

39. Villain's contemptuous expression.

40. Dr. Tim Mason in The Man with Nine Lives.
43. Feminine lead in City of Chance.

45. I Had My Way.

46. Rod Rocque.

47. Eskimo actor.

49. Spencer Tracy's birthplace (abbr.).

52. Daisy, of Blondie series, is one.

54. Al John.

55. Jed Prouty's role in Jones Family series.

(Solution on page 63)

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Looking Over the Field

{Continued from page 40]

office and start reeling off the titles of the
plays I'd been in, in Newark, so that it
sounded as if I'd had several seasons of
experience. But they'd just look at me
and say, 'Sorry, we haven't any children's
parts!'

"I got to know every bench and chair
in every manager's waiting room on
Broadway. I even worked out my own
schedule of calls so that I'd reach the
offices where the furniture was the softest,
at intervals when I'd most appreciate a
rest."

| It was inevitable that sooner or later
Betty would learn of the young actors'
hangout in the Penn-Astor and it was
over a milkshake at this haven of hopefuls
that she learned of a summer stock com-
pany being recruited for the season in
Stockbridge, Massachusetts. She applied,
was accepted and spent the summer play-
ing a variety of bit parts.

Now the die was surely cast. She wa3
in the theatre for keeps. But back on
Broadway, in the fall, Betty once more
found the managers' offices unimpressed
by her added stock experience and to
justify her staying on in New York, Betty
persuaded her parents to enter her in the
American Academy of Dramatic Art.

"I won quite a reputation at the school
for working hard," Betty related. "I used
to study my parts as if my life depended
upon it."

The following spring she was on the list
cf graduates of the academy but when hsr
name was read out at the commencement
exercises, she did not step forward to
receive her diploma.

"Miss Field cannot be here today,"
announced the officiating dignitary, "be-
cause she is rehearsing for a Broadway
play." Betty's hard work had resulted in
her being the first member of that grad-
uating class to win an engagement.

The play was Sing And Whistle, starring
Ernest Truex and was as short lived as a
popular tune. "I can't call it my first New
York appearance," said Betty, "for the
simple reason I didn't appear. I was
understudying. But I was luckier in my
next job. I was cast as the debutante in
the company that was taking She Loves
Me Not to London, two days before the
troupe was to sail, and we were on the
boat before rehearsals started and they
realized how young and inexperienced I
was."

On her return from England, Betty
again joined the parade through the ante-
rooms of producers' offices, supporting
herself by posing for fashion photographs
until her next engagement, a small bit in
Page Miss Glory, in which, incidentally,
Jim Stewart had the romantic lead.

Page Miss Glory was directed by George
Abbott, the sure handed play doctor who,
as a producer, later was to have such a
large share in building Betty to Broadway
prominence. "My role in Page Miss Glory
was so small, though," the actress ad-
mitted, "that Mr. Abbott didn't even
bother to find out my name. He just

called me 'the kid in the green dress.' "

Abbott soon was to be more impressed,
when he started forming a Boston com-
pany to play the comedy smash Three Men
On a Horse. Betty auditioned for a sup-
porting role and was given instead the
feminine lead. When Joyce Arling, who
had created the role in New York left the
Broadway cast, Betty was called in from
Boston for her first conquest of Times
Square.

After that she was in a succession of
George Abbott hits. In fact no George
Abbott production seemed complete with-
out the sunny-faced Betty who had un-
corked an amazing gift of comedy. Room
Service, Boy Meets Girl, Angel Island,
What a Life and Primrose Path each
added to Betty Field's rapidly mounting
reputation. Each season she was surer in
her manner, increased in her dramatic
stature. Few ingenues in recent years
have had the advantage of passing from
one hit into another with such an un-
broken record of success. Few actresses
have worked harder to deserve their good
fortune.

When Paramount bought the screen
rights to What a Life, a year ago, Betty
was tested for her original role and offered
the top feminine spot in the film produc-
tion. It was not her first bid from Holly-
wood but all her previous offers from the
film capital had provided for long term
contracts. This was for a single picture.

"I'd fought shy of Hollywood because
I wanted to establish myself securely on
the stage before I did anything else," ex-
plained Betty. "But I was tired out after
several seasons in New York with no real
rest. I wanted a vacation and here seemed
to be a way to get that vacation in Cali-
fornia's famed balmy climate and be paid
for it to boot.

| "I arrived in Los Angeles in the
middle of March. It was raining and
cold and miserable and I had a cold and
was sniffling when I got off the train to
face a barrage of cameras and reporters.
I knew I looked terrible and I was sure
the press agents who met me must have
taken one look and said: 'What in the
world did they send her out here for?'

"It continued to be cold and mean and
my whole first week in Hollywood I spent
in bed, thinking bitterly of how smart I'd
thought I was in getting a grand vacation
in sunny California! I didn't know any-
one on the Coast and I was miserable, so
my first impression of Hollywood only
served to strengthen my vows to shun the
movies and stick to the stage.

"There was such a frightening imper-
sonal air about Hollywood, at first. After
the intimacy of a theatre production,
where everyone knows everyone else, the
huge movie lot was like a strange city.

"I shall never forget the first time I
went into the make-up department. I
walked in, full of confidence and feel-
ing quite important for having the lead in
my first picture. When I got in the big
room, filled with barber chairs and dozens

of hairdressers and make-up men, some-
one came up and said: 'Who are you?' in
a bored way.

" 'I'm Betty Field,' I replied and thought
that was enough. But the woman just
kept looking at me blankly and asked:
'What do you do?'

" 'I'm in What a Life,' I answered. 'What
picture's that? Who's directing it?' the
woman wanted to know. I couldn't tell
her. 'What production number is it?'
That was like asking me for the license
number of a taxicab I'd just dismissed.
I had no idea. "Finally, after a lot of tele-
phoning and checking they established
who I was. I felt like I'd been having my
credit references looked up at a not too
friendly department store!"

By the time she had done three films,
in quick succession, however, Betty had
revised her first impressions of the film
colony, had compromised with her avowed
intentions of single faithfulness to the
stage, and signed a contract with Para-
mount which calls for her spending six
months of every year before the cameras.
At the present time she is playing op-
posite Fredric March in Victory.

H Betty had timed her recountal of her
career to match the ritual of remov-
ing her stage make-up and preparing for
the street, and as she drew to the close
of her story, she retired behind a screen
to slip out of her kimono and into a dress.
She reappeared, looking, in her smartly

tailored severe black dress, anything but
the languid Lola Pratt of Seventeen.

We walked out into Forty-fifth Street
in the growing twilight, joining the stream
of office workers and shop girls hurrying
for their nightly subway. At Sixth Avenue,
she waved goodbye and skipped across the
street, dodged a taxicab and scrambled
aboard a bus bound for her apartment.

She might have been a clerk in the book
department at Sterns, or a typist in one
of the tall office buildings that tower over
Times Square, going home to her West
Side boarding house after a day's work.

Instead, she was one of the most suc-
cessful actresses in New York and the
day's work she had just finished was a
packed matinee of a Broadway hit, yet
there was none of the swish of furs
through a stage door to a waiting
limousine with which reigning stage stars
are usually associated.

B And as I walked on up Fifth Avenue,
and the lights of Radio City blinked
on and turned the RCA building into a
giant candle against the sky, I realized
where lay one of the secrets of Betty
Field's extraordinary success. All her
professional life, each performance has
been just a day's work to be well done
and then left in the theatre. Let who
would, wear the glamour of fame like a
cloak to be proudly paraded in public.
Betty would take her bus home, thank
you, and study her lines for tomorrow.

Fawcctt photo by Rhodes
Gene Raymond and Jeanette MacDonald, snapped leaving a preview, seem delighted
about something. Maybe it is the striking portrait of Jeanette that you will see on
next month's HOLLYWOOD Magazine. Gene is now making Highway to Romance
at RKO-Radio, and Jeanette will be seen soon in New Moon opposite Nelson Eddy

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Mad at Maxims

[Continued from page 10]

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Life with Murphy from this point on was
at sixes and sevens, you might say, until
he bumped into Juliette Johnson on the
street and discovered she had come to
town to become a dancer. George was
ready to do a polka with her right there
on Madison Avenue.

It's an ill wind that blows nobody good.
George will agree to that one. This same
Juliette made a dancer out of George
Murphy, something thuswise:

An apprenticeship at Ned Wayburn's
dance studio and she was ready to try her
wings. She caught on in no time at all,
in such record time, in fact, that when she
broke the news to George that she was off
to Florida with a Ziegfeld show he was
too numb for a moment to yell "Hooray!''

When his mind cleared he realized that
he didn't want Juliette going off to Florida.
He loved her. "Absence makes the heart
grow fonder," his friends taunted him.
Suspicious, by this time of all such sayings,
he determined to do something about it.

It suddenly dawned on George Murphy
that he and Juliette Johnson, the best
ballroom partner he had known in all his
life, were a dance team.

"We could make twice as much money
teaming up," he told her in an off-hand
way, anything to stall her off.

"You mean if anyone would hire us," she
said.

"Two can live cheaper than one."

"In the land of Oz, maybe."

"When are you going to Florida?"

"In three weeks. Of course, if you could
get us something before I left . . ."

"I'll get us a spot. Don't 'worry."

"Not down at the Bowery, George.
Please."

George looked the town over, picked
out a nice cafe in the East sixties and
approached the manager.

"We're a roaring success — just roared
out of the West, as a matter of fact," he
said. "We'll pull business into the place.
Why do you know that the last place
that hired us had to call out the riot
squad . . .?"

The manager was too run down to pro-
test and the dancing team of Murphy and
Johnson moved in.

BJ "Nothing succeeds like success." They
were married at the Little Church
Around the Corner. Then Juliette sug-
gested that they try to make something
really big out of their dancing. George
was willing enough, but no one was more
surprised than George that the team, what
with him "holding back a truly great
dancer," became an overnight sensation.

"I finally got going in the legitimate
theatre — don't ask me how — and was play-
ing in Roberta when Sam Goldwyn got
excited about one of the girls in the cast
and offered her a screen test. They
needed a male stooge and someone hap-
pened to think of George Murphy, the
cavalier. I was delighted, of course, to
help out.

"Well, it happened that this particular
test required music. So just for the hell of

it I sang a little ditty. Then I wished the
girl luck and went about my business."

| What was that about the best laid
plans of mice and men?

There was George making a name for
himself as a hoofer in musical comedy
when Sam Goldwyn sent for him. Mr. G.,
it seemed, was enchanted with the test.
He wanted to hire the singer for his next
picture. In vain was it pointed out that
the beautiful young lady, formerly of
Roberta, was the subject of the test.

"I gave in to the inevitable," George
tells you, "and went to Hollywood, at
Goldwyn's instructions, to croon in Kid
Millions with Eddie Cantor."

Did someone say that it doesn't pay to
change horses in mid-stream?

"Resigned to singing, I found myself
signed, overnight virtually, by Columbia.
And for what? For a parcel of gangster
pictures! I was just about settled down in
this groove when Universal hired me for
a part in Top of the Town — a singing role.

"Well, there I was one day doing some
trick steps off-set when up sidled the
director.

" 'Good Lord, George, you're a dancer.
Why didn't someone tell me?' Where-
upon that worthy had the script-writer
work up a dance sequence in a hurry."

When Sam Goldwyn saw Top of the
Town he flew into a rage.

"So you're a dancer and I hire you for
a singer," Mr. G. protested with righteous
wrath.

George didn't have time to remember,
"A soft answer turneth away wrath." He
argued.

"Mr. Goldwyn, you've seen me dance
many times in New York. We've even had
some pleasant conversations together at
some of the spots where you caught our
act. Why you called us 'Colossal!' "

Mr. Goldwyn called the incident closed.
But not until he had clarified the situation
as follows: "When I hired you, George,
I didn't have any idea you were the same
fellow. Shakespeare was right: Haste
makes waste — positively."

After that, Mike Murphy's boy didn't
know what he was until Metro finally
recast him, after assigning him supporting
roles, as a dance man. He's been doing
Broadway Melodies for three years, but
the biggest kick he ever got out of those
pictures was the Broadway Melody of 1940.

"Dancing with Fred Astaire and Eleanor
Powell was so much fun that it was a
crime to take M-G-M's money, which all
of us did, nevertheless. But cheerfully.
We danced for our own amusement prac-
tically all day. One afternoon Toscanini
paid us a visit and we put on a hot jam
session for him. He seemed to like it.
Speaking of Hollywood, kind of wish I was
back there right now," he wound up
wistfully.

"You can't have your cake and eat it,"
we sparkled.

"What cake?" Mr. Murphy demanded,
bristling.

He reached for his hat. And he was gone.

Hollywood Newsreel

[Continued from page 17]

'Then you'll buy it?" Norman asked.

"We did buy it," he was told. "We
bought it last week from Kay King, a
producer's secretary who works right
here on the lot."

"But I just had the idea today," Norman
protested. "It was strictly for me — ■ from
numerology."

"Kay King wrote it a month ago," came
the further information. "So the money
is strictly for her — from the cashier's
office."

Norman looks faintly wounded as he
ferries his fruit around the lots these
days. "It can't be the numbers were
wrong," he muses. "Maybe my receiving
set is getting fuzzy."

Penny Singleton, strictly no dope in
the key of B-flat, tripped over what
promises to be one of her softest sources
of income in a music store.

Shopping around for some amusing
recordings for her youngster, Penny found
there was none on the racks that the kid
would pay any attention to.

On the spot she was smitten with the
idea to record some children's records
herself— "As Told to Baby Dumpling,"
with words and effects by Mile. Singleton
herself.

A major record outfit signed her with
no delay whatever to do a whole album
of bedtime stories in wax. To celebrate
the occasion Penny wrote an impromptu
song entitled, "Shoot the checka to me,
Decca."

S3 Victor McLaglen is one of those

physiological freaks that can recharge

their batteries by falling asleep at Will

and waking refreshed and r'arin' to go.

Working in South of Pago-Pago, in
which he plays a heavy for the first time
in a couple of seasons, Vic was strapped,
in a climactic scene, to the mainmast of
a ship. Later he was to be shoved out to
sea for an appointment with Davy Jones
in the latter's locker.

After the lashings were affixed, McLag-
len took advantage of a technical delay
and nodded off into a snooze.

While he was corking off, the director
changed his mind about shooting that
particular scene and moved the company
to another stage. Lashed to the mast and
undisturbed for two hours, Vic woke up
with multiple "charley horses" in his
cramped muscles and no love for the
double-crossing director, who left him
roped up until he cooled off.

Personal History of a Foreign Correspondent

[Continued from page 36]

to sleep at Hollywood parties, sits with
his hands folded over his paunch. Once
his wife woke him up and gently sug-
gested they might as well go home.

"Oh, no," he replied, "that would be
rude."

B It won't show on the screen, but one
of the most exciting things that hap-
pened during the shooting of Foreign
Correspondent was the adventure of
Osmond Borradaile. Borradaile is a loca-
tion cameraman. Wanger packed him off
to Amsterdam, where a large part of the

CROSSWORD PUZZLE
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picture takes place, to get background
shots.

The Nazis had not yet smashed through
Denmark and Norway, but Holland was
not exactly what you'd call a homey place
when Borradaile arrived. Finally, though,
he got all the shots he needed and boarded
the S. S. Rijnstroom, a Dutch freighter,
for his return.

The Rijnstroom was sunk by Nazi war
planes. Borradaile escaped, but $16,000
worth of film went to the bottom of the
North Sea. It's down there now.

Borradaile went back to Holland.
People with cameras had grown less
popular on that frontier. With great
difficulty he obtained a permit. Suspicious
police arrested him as soon as he began
chooting. After his release and a lot of
red tape he was guarded by a squad of
soldiers and police. The guard attracted
so much attention that crowds of curious
Hollanders greatly hampered his work.

At last he finished, packed his film and
took off for Bermuda. There he planned
to ship the shots to the United States on
the Atlantic Clipper, but the British cen-
sorship clamped down on the air mail and
the film was blocked. It took Wanger
weeks to get those scenes so vital to the
picture.

There have been movies made before
against tremendous technical odds, but
I'm sure there's never been one before to
come out of fabulous Hollywood like For-
eign Correspondent, which has had to
battle the most violent forces ever un-
leashed in the world.

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Love Begins at Forty

[Continued from page 19]

ceded the actual outbreak of war, when
Frenchmen saw all their hopes and dreams
and plans of a prosperous peace shattered
by the deepening shadow of a power-
hungry Hitler, Charles Boyer, the ac-
claimed actor, the elegant intellectual, the
suave sophisticate, added a new measure
of mature dignity to his makeup, grasped
a new meaning of the homely, human
qualities of kindliness and simplicity.

Demobilized because of his age, Charles
Boyer returned from his brief tour as a
supporting trouper in the democratic
company of Mars, a more mellow and
contemplative citizen than when he was
stripped of his immaculate Hollywood
wardrobe and shoved into the baggy blue
breeches of a French artilleur.

His arduous adventure has served to
emphasize the character of Charles
Boyer as a family man, a tender and
attentive husband, a generous and de-
voted son.

It may be that in the unpredictable
period when he was a part of a great array
rising, stretching and shaking itself down
for the rigors of a bitter war, Charles
Boyer came to realize what an extended
separation from his loved ones would
mean in loneliness.

It may be that, as Boyer himself para-
phrases Professor Pitkin, love, real love,
the mature, lasting love of close com-
panionship and understanding and mutual
appreciation and gratitude, begins at
forty.

For it is at forty, Charles Boyer be-
lieves, that love approaches its real ful-
fillment.

You might expect a man who had been
known as a playboy of Paris in his
twenties, to think of his salad days with
the most romantic memories. But to
Charles Boyer the most emotionally satis-
fying years of his life are just begin-
ning.

It is perhaps because of his peculiar
ability to project across the screen the
more profound significances of love — the
sort of love that glows and warms as
opposed to the more explosive passion
that detonates, throws off a glittering
shower of sparks — and dies — that Charles
Eoyer has been able to entrench himself
so impregnably in the hearts of women.

One expects, naturally, then, that Boyer
has developed some very definite ideas
cf his own on the topic of love. One is
not disappointed.

"Tell me," I said to him, "what is the
difference between love at twenty, at
thirty, and at forty?"

"Understand," he replied quickly, "that
in answering your query I speak only for
myself. Or, let us say, in generalities.

"Love at twenty? If it is the real thing
it is the greatest thrill life has to offer.

"And it may well grow into the steadier,
more serene and sure emotion that is part
of every lasting love.

"At thirty? The thrill is still there but
with it there is the satisfying sense of
working toward something for someone
else, for the essence of love is still sacri-

fice, a truth that the old-time sentimental
novelists understood. And mature men
have a need to care for, to protect those
they love.

"At forty? Love then becomes a com-
bination of these things with something
more added. Now love is approaching
its time of fulfillment — for the major con-
cern of love and its greatest recompense
is the succeeding generation."

"Suppose a man is happily married at
thirty," I queried. "How does his love
change at forty?"

Charles Boyer examined the idea with
as much impersonal detachment as
Einstein probing a mathematical theorem.

"If he were truly in love at thirty,"
answered Boyer, "he will be truly in love
at forty. For true love does not wither
or die. So at forty, it is not correct to
say that love has changed, rather only
that it has grown and deepened and be-
come bulwarked by a profound mutual
understanding that blesses the soul with
a great serenity and peace. Men and
women both change, but if they have
spent the years between thirty and forty
happily together, they have built an
understanding and a trust in each other
that is not frequently achieved at an
earlier age."

Perhaps one reason Charles Boyer
stresses the theme that love begins at
forty, is that he is a Frenchman. For, if
there is any one marked difference be-
tween the American and the French hus-
band, in the actor's opinion, it is that the
European is not as likely to let the little
tendernesses of the honeymoon fade from
his domestic manners with the passing of
years.

"A French husband is just as courtly,
as considerate, as much the cavalier,
twenty years after he has been married,
as in the days of his courtship," said
Boyer. "A Frenchman never stops woo-
ing his wife."

And, although Charles Boyer was dis-
cussing this whole subject of mature love
in an impersonal way, it was impossible
not to read into his answers the suggestion
of how perfectly he has achieved hap-
piness in his own life.

The love story of Charles Boyer and
Pat Paterson is one of the most heart-
warming sagas in the movies' book of
memoirs.

Six years ago they were married, ten
days after their first meeting in Holly-
wood; he newly arrived from France and
not yet recognized as a film figure of
great promise; she a bright, brisk little
British actress just winning attention in
the cinema capital.

There is a story that, after several dates
together, the two appeared one evening,
a little after curtain time, at the box-
office of a Hollywood legitimate theatre,
housing a current hit. The performance
was sold out.

"What shall we do now?" queried Pat,
blond, beautiful and devastatingly dressed
for a gala evening.

"Well, we might get married," suggested

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Charles and half an hour later they
started driving to Yuma, Arizona, the
Gretna Green of film folk who wed on
impulse.

Unlike most such elopements, the
marriage of Charles Boyer and Pat Pater-
son has been a stunning success. The
last year has drawn them more closely
together than ever before, of course, but
they have long been considered one of
Hollywood's happiest and most compat-
ible couples.

Charles is an artistic -minded gentle-
man of great charm, worldly and witty and
at the same time he possesses an intellec-
tual aloofness that gives him an intriguing
air of mystery. Such a man demands of
his mate an unselfish, sympathetic adora-
tion and Pat Paterson has given it un-
stintingly.

A self-respecting Frenchman likes to
regard his wife principally as a brilliant
and beautiful background for his own
achievements. Thus Pat has been con-
tent to submerge her own professional
life completely in the pleasant fulfill-
ment of her domestic duties. She occa-
sionally accepts a picture role that attracts
her, but only if Charles is working at
the same time. No film role, however
appealing in its possibilities, would tempt
her if it meant being away from home
when Charles was between pictures.

"We have too much fun together, to
make a film job seem important if it
meant working when Charles was free,"
Pat told me.

One of her latest screen assignments,
before she went to Europe last year, was
that of the newly-wed bride in Idiot's
Delight. Thus far this year she has had
no yen to pack up her makeup box and
sally forth in search of billing as some-
thing else than Mrs. C. Boyer.

B Charles and Pat live quietly but well.
Boyer is a connoisseur of fine food,
a favorite dish being pate de foie gras,
which comes from the neighborhood of
Figeac, the little town in Southern France
where he was born and where he lived
until he was eighteen. He has a taste for
rare French wines, especially champagne,
and his wine cellar is the best stocked in
Hollywood.

Books are his chief hobby, the walls
of his circular shaped library (copied
from the library he designed for himself
in Paris) are lined with row on row of
valuable first editions. He has, too, a
beautifully bound copy of the script of
every picture he has been in from the
unhappy Caravan, his first important
Hollywood film which sent him scram-
bling back to Paris, where his reputation
had been established as a star of stag a
and screen for twelve years, through his
early American successes in Private
Worlds, Conquest, Algiers and the film
which cemented his top ranking, Love
Affair.

Seen infrequently at the night clubs of
the film colony, the Boyers entertain only
spasmodically. Their closest friends are
Ronald and Benita Colman, Tyrone Power
and Annabella, Norma Shearer and
Anatole Litvak. Recently Charles and

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Pat were joined in their Hollywood home
by Madame Louise Boyer, Charles'
gracious and charming mother, who looks
astonishingly like her famous son.

■ It was to meet his mother who arrived
a few weeks ago on the President
Washington from Genoa to stay in
America for the duration of the war, that
Boyer and Pat came East on the com-
pletion of his latest picture All This, And
Heaven Too.

While he was in New York, from where
he broadcast two of his weekly radio
half-hour dramas, the actor was sum-
moned by Warners to make a "retake" of
dialogue that, if it had been completed,
would have been unique in the history
of film making.

With Boyer in New York and Bette
Davis, his co-star in the film, vacation-
ing in Honolulu, Anatele Litvak, the
director of All This, And Heaven Too,
found that he needed a new sound track
for a scene which had been photographed
already in Hollywood.

A three-way long distance hook-up
was arranged, with Bette on one end of
a telephone connection in Honolulu,
Boyer at the other in New York, and the
sound recorder cut in on the line at the
studios in Burbank, outside Hollywood.

The afternoon I interviewed Boyer was
the day arranged for the "retake" and
with several telephone technicians and
members of the publicity department and
the trade press, I sat around Boyer's hotel
suite, waiting for the jingle that would
signal the first 6,000-mile retake in film
history.

When, however, after a lengthy wait
for the connection to be established, Bette
Davis came on the wire from Honolulu,
it was found that she and Charles had
been sent different versions of the script
and therefore could not re-enact the
dialogue required for the sound retake.

The call, and an exchange of pleasantries
with Bette, prompted Charles to tell me
of his pleasure at having worked with
Bette in the Rachel Field story, which
Boyer believes is one of his best pictures
to date.

"Ever since I saw Bette in Of Human
Bondage," declared Boyer, "I have hoped
we would some day work together. She
is a magnificent actress and has the same
approach to a role that I try to follow.
She thinks out her part very carefully
in advance and goes on the set knowing
exactly what she is going to do.

"Not only was I happy to be playing
with Bette but I was immensely satisfied
with the story of All This, And Heaven
Too. In some ways it has the same
qualities that marked Mayerling.

"The story has a most unusual appeal,
for it shows a very tender love built be-
tween the Due de Praslin and the little
English governness of his tormented
household, and yet not once in the whole
film do they so much as touch one an-
other."

Once more, we guess, the caressing
voice, the intriguing eyes of Boyer will
create a romantic mood more devastating
than the wildest wrestling bouts of other,
less subtle screen lovers.

SB Just as his experiences in the war
have sharpened Boyer's personal in-
tegrity, so the actor has come back to
Hollywood with a new perspective on
motion pictures. Charles Boyer has be-
come more exacting in his approval of
the stories in which he will appear, for
to him films now represent one of the
chief means of entertainment to millions
of men in uniform who look to the movies
for an emotional outlet. Production in
both France and England has been greatly
curtailed and more than ever American
studios will fill that need.

And Boyer is determined to appear only
in films that supply either gayety or vital
ideas to conjure with, and thus take the
audience's mind off itself.

His new contracts, concluded when he
returned to the film capital last winter,
provide for two pictures with Paramount
and a single production at Universal. All
of them are subject to his approval of
stories.

Later, Boyer would like to do a play
in New York. Although he was a star
of the Paris stage for a dozen years, he

NEXT MONTH
James Stewart runs his career beautifully,
but his home is a mad-house according
to usual standards. He lives by himself,
but not alone. A steady stream of
friends, relatives, friends of friends, field
mice and uninvited guests moves through
his Hollywood habitat. His methods of
making them and himself comfortable are
different, to say the very least. The
story is in September HOLLYWOOD.
On the stands August 10

has never appeared in an English-speak-
ing part. But he is a little hesitant in this
ambition.

"My English is not yet adequate for a
play," he declared. "I could not give a
really free expression to a part in Eng-
lish. There are so many times when you
must feel a line, really think it deep in-
side you, to give it its full meaning, and
I am still merely reciting words in
English."

■ There is another reason Charles
Boyer is not likely to do a Broadway
play for some time to come. He is too
contented to be back in Hollywood, to
desert his pleasant California home for
New York.

"I have been happy in Hollywood,"
Boyer declared, "how happy I never re-
alized until this last year threatened to
make my return problematical.

"I was at Nice making a French picture,
Le Corsaire, when the situation became
really disturbing. A few days before
war broke out, production was halted be-
cause virtually all of the technical staff
had been mobilized.

"I had taken Pat to Figeac to stay with
my mother in the house where I was
born. Figeac is a small town in the South
of France and it was reasonable to sup-
pose that in the event of war it would
be far from the scene of hostilities.

"When the picture was stopped, I went
back to Figeac and was there when war
was declared. If I had been in America
when the war broke out, I would not
have been called, because the class to
which I belong was not mobilized. But
since I was home, it seemed that the only
proper thing to do was to report to the
authorities and offer my services.

"I was mustered in as a private, the
day of the general mobilization."

Because of illness as a youth, Charles
had never had the usual two years com-
pulsory training and therefore it was as
a simple poilu that he was enrolled in
the artillery. He was sent to Agen, a
larger town in the next province, about
sixty-five miles from Figeac. Pat moved
over to Agen and lived at a hotel to be
near her husband when he was off duty.

Those duties, however, Boyer ex-
plained, were pretty prosaic. After the
first month of routine training, he was
given a clerical job as a telephone oper-
ator at the regional military headquarters
and his entire three months of service
were spent at Agen.

In November about 115,000 Frenchmen
over 40, were demobilized, Boyer among
them. He and Pat immediately left for
Lisbon from where they took the first
Clipper back to the States.

■ When it was reported that Boyer had
been released from the Army and was
returning to America, there were wide-
spread rumors that he was to be pressed
into service on some sort of propaganda
mission in this country.

This, the actor explained, was quite
untrue.

"I have no connection whatever with
the government now," Boyer declared to
me. "When I was demobilized I was told
to go home, just like all the rest. For
several years California has been my
home and so naturally I came back here to
pick up my career. I do not think it is
likely I will be recalled."

His visit to the French Embassy, on his
trip to New York this month, Boyer
pointed out, was purely a social one and
had no official significance at all.

"The Ambassador asked me to have
luncheon with him on a day when he
was entertaining an old friend of mine
from Paris. That was all. The talk about
my being back in America on an official
mission is ridiculous."

And yet, I thought, as I watched five
hundred women crowd into a broadcast
studio that night to gaze dotingly at their
hero and hang on his every word, the idea
is not so ridiculous at that.

For France certainly won't be hurt any,
in its campaign to keep the friendly in-
terest of this country, by a million or
more American women forming their im-
pressions of a nation, crystalizing their
reaction to a race, by delightedly drink-
ing in the disarming charm of this
debonair demobilized poilu with a profile!

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Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Actor at Armageddon (Robert Montgomery) by Wilbur Morse, Jr. 19

Gale Page's Reducing Diet by Rilla Page Palmborg 2!

Somebody Ought To Tell Her! (James Stewart)

by Helen Louise Walker 22

Private Letters of Jeanette MacDonald by Sonia Lee 24

"I'm Glad I Wasn't Married 100 Years Ago" (Tyrone Power)

by Kate Johns 28
Let Your Heart Beat Quick (Madeleine Carroll)

by Lupton A. Wilkinson 30

Net Profit for Lynn by John R. Franchey 31

Lamour — Disaster Expert by Winifred Aydelotte 32

How To Win Confidence (Hugh Herbert) by Kay Proctor 34

The Long Voyage Home... by E. J. Smithson 37

PICTORIAL SPECIALS

Remember? 26

Never a Dull Moment 36

Boom Town 66

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Duncan Underhill 6

The Show Goes On by Llewellyn Miller 12

Beauty Full Teens by Ann Vernon 16

A Bride Entertains by Betty Crocker 40

Movie Masquerade 48

Movie Crossword 52

GINGER ROGERS' CONTEST WINNERS 43

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By CANDIDA

■ Candida, HOLLYWOOD'S new
Fashion Editor, invites you to go

star-gazing with her, and note fashions
worn in Hollywood, style center of the
country. Use this column as index, turn
the pages with her, and adapt these
starry clothes to your wardrobe.

■ Pin a pinafore afore — and you'll look a
cute trick this summer. Ann Sothern's

on page 6, has eyelet embroidery on the
ruffles, is equally good over dresses, or
over shirts and shorts.

H Turbans go on and on, especially the
hand-rolled ones. Anita Louise,
page 6, twines her blond locks with the
silk mesh, and ties it at the back for that
new look.

9 You can't have too much jewelry this
summer or fall — as Dotty Lamour
knows. Her multiple strand necklace and
single fitoop earring are as good with street
or evening clothes as with her pirate cos-
tume. Page 8.

Deanna Durbln's gaily embroidered
apron, page 8, would look pert over
a simple black dress — and so would a
plain one of matching material. The
short puffed sleeves and tucked neckline
of her peasant blouse, and her fitted
bodice are flattering to young figures.
| Catch your curls high, and pin them
low, as Helen Parrish does, page 16, for
a young yet formal coiffure. Her chiffon
dress features soft Grecian drapery at
shoulders — a style worth watching.
| Muriel Angelus, page 57, wears a
tailored checked jacket over a
simple brown dress. Contrasting tweed
jackets are as smart over wool dresses
now as they always are over sweaters and
skirts . . . One added to your wardrobe
will give you several new costumes.
9 Gale Page models a Gibson Girl shirt-
waist and skirt, page 21, and today's
more feminine version with bodice-like
blouse. Try reversing the colors, with
white above, dark below, if your hips are
too generously curved.
fl Go the South American Way, as
Joan Bennett does with her fruit-y
turban, page 27. Fall hats sit back on
the head, cover most of the ears — but
leave plenty of room for dangling ear-
rings that give the lavish touch.
2 You don't have to be a bride or a
gorgeous blonde like Anita Louise,
page 40, to find new flattery in a frilly
organdy collar and cuff set. Hers gives a
fresh femininity to her polka-dotted
dinner dress — but you'll find it equally
becoming with your black daytime frock.

■ Look for HOLLYWOOD'S Fashion
Spotlight again next month. We'll

be back for more star-worn styles for

IMAGINE !

They9 re all in one picture and it's a sensation:

CLARK GABLE

SPENCER TRACY

CLAVDETTE COLBERT

HEDY LAMARR

Screen Play by John Lee Mahin • Based on a Story by James Edward Grant • Directed by

W JACK CONWAY • Produced by Sam Zimbalist • A METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER PICTURE

By DUNCAN UNDERBILL

| Latest Dorothy Parkerism specifically
disowned by Miss Parker but success-
fully traced back to her:

"Hollywood is the hunting ground of
the Cro-Magnon Man and the I. Magnin
Woman."

■ Up to his eyes in conference with the
Marx Brothers about their next pic-
ture, Director Eddie Buzzell completely
forgot it was his birthday.

Devoted friends telephoned with greet-
ings so persistently that Buzzell in des-
peration instructed his butler to choke off
further interruptions.

The butler, Alex Christiansen, a former
trooper in the Swedish Royal Guards, fol-
lowed orders to the letter.

One of the incoming long distance calls
Alex refused was from Buzzell's father,
who was visiting the A. T. & T. exhibit at
the New York World's Fair and was
awarded a free call anywhere in the
United States.

Buzzell, Sr., was pretty happy about the
thing until the operator at the Fair in-
formed him the call was rejected by Holly-
wood, no matter who was trying to get
connected with Eddie Buzzell.

After dinner the senior Buzzell called
again, this time from his own phone and at
his own expense.

"Why wouldn't you answer earlier?" he
demanded. "It's not the expense I care
about, understand. But two hundred
people were listening and they all thought
I was a phony."

As soon as she finished filming Gold
Rush Maisie, Ann Sothern took off for
a vacation on Catalina Island with a
complete wardrobe of pinafore dresses.
She is shown with one of the rare birds
in Catalina's big museum and park

B Before actual shooting starts, Garson
Kanin is putting the Lombard-Laugh-
ton company through two weeks of re-
hearsal on They Knew What They
Wanted.

The sets aren't finished yet, but the
script and cast sheets are complete and
the actors are getting acquainted with
each other and their surroundings.

On the sidelines Frank Fay and Harry
Carey are coasting. They haven't a scene
for the next hour. Fay tells his imaginary
troubles to Bill Gargan, the second man
in the plot's dramatic triangle.

"That Kanin is a fine director," he ad-
mits generously. "But he's a little nar-
row and unreceptive. Take this scene
where Laughton is throwing a party for
all his farmer neighbors. Well, Harry,
here, and I, suggested it might be a good
spot for us to do an adagio — you know,
something a little classy — the old Fay
finesse, the Carey class touch. Know
what Kanin said when we suggested it?"

"No," Gargan replies.

"That's right," Fay admits. "He said no.
Well, I've just talked to New York— to
Neio York, mind you — and we're shooting
the scene both ways. One way will be
Kanin's way, the other the Carey-Fay
touch. And you know what will happen
when the exhibitors of America are given
their choice. I'm sorry for Kanin, but we
warned him. Here's the way our little
business goes."

Fay springs to his feet, goes into an
intricate, slyly clumsy dance terminating
with a high kick aimed at Carey's chin.
Then, like a vaudeville duo of the '90s,
the two veterans dance off the set into
purely imaginary wings.

Director Kanin, Miss Lombard and
Laughton have stopped their rehearsal to
watch the nutty by-play. Fay, perceiving
his audience, suddenly goes coy.

"You don't give us business," he ex-
plains, "so we make it up. It's the artist
in us."

"It's the ham in you," Kanin replies.
"Vaudeville is dead — and I've just recog-
nized the murderers."

B Chris-Pin Martin, the rotund Yaqui
Indian who commits daring deeds of
banditry as Cesar Romero's side-kick in
the Cisco Kid, finds himself in a legal jam
for stealing land in the heart of Los
Angeles.

Chris is the leading citizen of a quaint
little Mexican neighborhood founded by
himself thirty years ago. From time to
time he erects another house on the Martin
acres acquired with his first earnings as
an extra.

After finishing his latest addition, he
got a letter from one of the leading realty-
owners of California setting forth the
following complaints:

Chris had appropriated 1.83 feet of
abutting property that didn't belong to
him; he had had a road constructed over

his neighbor's land; he had graded his
neighbor's land without permission and
contrary to his neighbor's artistic taste;
he had been committing daily acts of
trespass across such land, road and grad-
ings.

The legal owner came to call on Chris,
who happened to be wearing a three-day
beard and a Mexican bandit costume at
the time. Until he can think up some so-
lution to the jam, the obese character actor
is hiding behind a feigned inability to
speak English. It looks as if the Cisco
Kid will have to come to his aid with
pistol and lariat.

fj Bing Crosby is a good patriot. But
he doesn't relish the role pinned on
him of key man in the air defense of the
continent.

Every night for a week the crooner was
waylaid at the Paramount studio gate by
fiendishly persuasive promoters trying to
sell him airplane motors, or to interest him
in new plastic materials for making
fuselages.

On arrival at his home in Toluca Lake
he was accosted by a carburetor salesman
lying in wait with blueprints and cost esti-
mates. And when he turned up at a race-
track to watch the early morning work-
outs, lo, there was a peddler on hand ready
to deliver a sales talk on new metal alloys.

The reason for all this furor in the
crooner's life was that a gentleman named
Harry Crosby has just filed incorporation
papers at Sacramento for the Crosby Air-
craft Company.

Bing is the leading earthworm of the
Hollywood stars.

But he is guilty in the first degree of
being Harry (Lillis) Crosby, and you
can't cool off a promoter when he has
that gleam in his eye.

Anita Louise picked the winner at the
Will Rogers Memorial Handicap, and
that accounts for the happy smile as she
collects thirty-two dollars for her two
dollar investment. Summer weight furs
are much in evidence at the races

PARAMOUNT PRESENTS

THE SHOW IMMENSE . . .

Captain Crosby and his Colossal Crew
of Comely Ladies and Comic Lads in a
Streamlined Musical Entertainment featuring
Seven (count 'em, folks) Hit Tunes to make September
a Month you'll Remember!

M LlUIAN(Wo*,bShe

0 &A SWeN) CORNEU.

BING

CROSBY • MARTIN • RATHBONE

with

Oscar Levant • Lillian Cornell • Oscar Shaw • Charley Grapewin
Jean Cagney • William Frawley • John Scott Trotter

Directed by Victor Schertzinger • Screen Play by Dwight Taylor • Based
on a story by Billy Wilder and Jacques Thery ♦ A Paramount Picture

.:;: : A . ... ......■.■ .,-:..

S Errol Flynn, careering around South
America on a pleasure tour, was
vaguely slandered by a Hollywood publi-
cation that described him as a hokum hero,
a Hollywood ham and an actor who wasn't
worth his $4,000-a-week wage.

The studio sent Flynn the clipping and
asked what action should be taken about
it.

Errol radioed back that he was charmed
to be called a ham and hokum, hero, but
insisted that a correction be printed about
his salary.

"They're robbing me of $1,500 a week,"
he protested. "It's $5,500 a week I'm not
worth, if I'm not worth it, not $4,000."

| Too Many Girls is the title of the pic-
ture in which LeRoy Prinz is currently
acting as dance director. And too many

A frail-looking girl in a cheap print
dress made the first approach. "I was
locked out of my room last night. I know
this dress isn't appropriate, but if I can
get into my trunk I can make a much bet-
ter appearance."

A Navajo girl asked Jrrinz to lend f'er a
few dollars, and hold an Indian ceremonial
doll as security. Hardly a working da^'
goes by that Prinz doesn't undergo a
touch of some sort.

"During nine years in Hollywood I've
lent many hundreds of dollars to kids
who really needed it," he calculates. "I'll
say this for them: they paid it back if
they could. I'm in a vulnerable spot, deal-
ing with girls in wholesale lots. One girl
in a hundred has the need or the nerve
to ask for money. And they keep the
bite down to an average of two dollars."

enjoy it for a while privately. He is the
inventor of a steam-turbine with a new
principle, an airplane Diesel motor, and
an assortment of gadgets designed to
make life easier or more complicated or
both.

The Davenola appears to be an innocent-
locking modernistic divan. But if you press
the right buttons on it, a radio, a water
carafe, a reading lamp, a dressing mirror
and bedroom slippers emerge from its
recesses.

Demonstrating it to open-mouthed col-
leagues, Sturges pressed the buttons and
boasted, "This day-bed for day-dreaming
and easy living, will do everything but
shake itself out."

Just at that moment some signals got
crossed in the mechanism and the whole
apparatus began to shake convulsively.

Hot dogs and root beer are standard
refreshment from Coney Island all tin:
way to Hollywood. Judy Garland shovs
approval at Jackie Cooper's party

Bj Discord and halting rhythm were
holding up the recording of a Bing
Crosby song for Rhythm on the River.
Finally, Wingy Mannone, the one-armed
trumpeter whose hot-and-dirty band is
a feature of the film, pounced on the
culprit.

With Director Victor Schertzinger, a
musician himself, Wingy pointed an ac-
cusing finger at the offender.

"Can't get in the groove," the poor guy
explained sadly. "Had a hard season. This
is my first job in five months. And the
surroundings here are so familiar, they
get me down."

Schertzinger ordered the depressed
gentleman blindfolded so he couldn't see
the set.

It's the interior of a pawnshop.

HI The Davenola, a piece of modern
furniture that combines everything
you need in one piece, is the la'.est play-
thing of Author-Director Preston Sturges,
who has written a part for his contraption
in his current film, The New Yorkers.

There are few dull moments in Preston's
life. He is the owner of one of the hand-
somest restaurants in Hollywood, still un-
opened to the public because he wants to

Screen stars turned out in pirate
costumes for the opening of the new
cafe, The Pirates' Den. Rudy Vallee
and Dorothy Laniour rule the high C's

girls explains the constant outflow of
money from the Prinz pockets.

The day he was interviewing applicants
for dancing jobs in the current George
Abbott picture, he got a special delivery
letter, postmarked Long Island, and con-
taining a money order for $12.50. The
name of the remitter, a female, was un-
familiar to him.

A note accompanying the draft ex-
plained that a few girls working in a Long
Island night club were exchanging Holly-
wood reminiscences. Prinz' name had got
into the conversation.

"Gee, I owe him fifty cents," one girl
suddenly remembered.

Others recalled that they owed him
small sums. With commendable prompti-
tude, they kicked in with the delinquent
sums and made up the $12.50 money order.

Hardly had the draft got settled in
Prinz' pocket, however, before the day's
touches started

A spirited peasant dance is given
by Mischa Auer and Deanna Durbin
in her new picture, Spring Parade

"Correction," Sturges remarked blandly.
"This day-^Qrl will do everything."

Kj Among Hollywood scenario writers
and their employers there is an under-
standing that when a writer concludes a
job and leaves the studio he may take a
reasonable amount of supplies along with
him.

A ream of typewriter paper, a couple of
ribbons, some letterheads, a box of pencils
and a stray eraser or so, comprise the
normal budget of swag for an employee
departing from his cell in writer's row.

RKO studio lately has been getting
pretty badly gouged by outward-bound
■writers, some of them having stocked up
for six or seven years before checking out.
Discreet warnings were sent around to
cut the looting down to a reasonable haul.

A fellow checking off the lot last week
rigidly restricted his petty pilfering to
some paper and a few sheets of carbon

********

tH*

ERROL

FLYNN

in the thrill-swept story of The
Robin Hood of the Seas'

A New WARNER BROS- Success
With More than a Thousand Players, including

BRENDA MARSHALL
CLAUDE RAINS

DONALD CRISP • FLORA ROBSON

ALAN HALE

Directed by MICHAEL CURTIZ

Screen Play by Howard Koch and Seton I. Miller

Music by Erich Wolfgang Korngold

A Warner Bros.-First National Picture

Your theatre manager will tell you gladly the date of this engagement •

paper. But his colleagues, having nothing
to do at the moment except create master-
ful screenplays, worked up a cute gag
on him.

While he was cleaning out his desk for
the last time, the gay blades who had
been his associates loaded up his roadster
with enough supplies to stock a stationery
store.

Into the capacious trunk compartment
they stowed two typewriters, an adding
machine, a desk set, a check protector, an
electric fan, a clock and a filing cabinet.

Never suspecting that he had been
jobbed, the outward-bound writer drove
his car to the gate, where the guard on
duty halted him.

"Checking off the lot today, aren't you,
Mr. Scrivener?" the policeman asked, hav-
ing been enlisted in the gag.

"Yeah," the scribe replied. "See you
again soon, I hope."

"Have to check your car out," the cop
said. "New rule on the lot. Been a lot
of petty thievery."

Concealing his impatience like a gentle-
man, the writer consented to a search of
his car. Like a terrier, the cop went
right to the hidden office supplies.

"This ain't regular," the cop said. "I'll
have to call my boss."

Surveying the miscellany planted on
him by his friends, the writer knew at
once he had been framed.

"Aw, this is only a gag," he protested.
"I didn't put that stuff there. Unload it
and let me go."

"Sorry," the cop said. "This looks like
the kind of thing we've been ordered to
guard against."

The boss cop came, looked grave, and
got in touch with the studio manager,
who called some associates. This silly

business went on most of the afternoon,
until a mob of fifty or sixty had assembled
to enjoy the poor writer's discomfiture.

Guys checking off the RKO lot in future
are warned to leave on foot, through the
front door, or expose themselves to the
caprices of the volunteer OGPU.

Si Now that he is well established as a
movie character actor, Brandon Tynan
feels it is safe to tell the yarn about how
he successfully kidded the Warner
Brothers in 1924.

David Belasco, the eminent Broadway
impresario, sold two of his stage successes
to the up-and-coming Warner boys. Harry
Warner wanted to confer with the pro-
ducer about the adaptations and accord-
ingly called at the Belasco offices. He was
told Belasco was suffering from neuralgia
at his home.

That night Warner went to the Follies
and was astonished when Will Rogers, the
featured comic, announced that Belasco
was in the audience and called on him to
say a few words.

Somebody who looked enough like
Belasco to get by took a bow and made a
graceful little speech. Harry Warner sent
Belasco a night letter congratulating him
on his quick recovery and on his nifty ap-
pearance at the Follies.

Belasco, still at home, was perplexed
about the mystery. That night he dosed
himself heavily with restoratives and went
to the Follies to see what was going on.

Again Rogers introduced Belasco and
again the guy in the audience got up and
made a speech. At the end of it, Rogers
said, "Excuse me, but if I didn't know you
so well, Dave, I'd have said that gentleman
in the aisle seat was David Belasco."

The impersonator, Brandon Tynan,

turned on the genuine Belasco, shouting,
"Get up, Brandon Tynan, I know you!"

Belasco tottered to his feet and faced
the phony. The audience, thoroughly be-
wildered, couldn't tell which was the right
guy.

His voice trembling with emotion, Tynan
said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I taught this
young man to act. And such has been his
appreciation that he is going around giving
impersonations of me in clubs, theatres and
heaven knows where else. I understand
he gives a very good imitation behind my
back. Now I challenge him to give it to
my face."

Belasco smiled and bowed. The audi-
ence applauded, insisting that he speak.
Finally he shrugged and said, "Ladies and
gentlemen, I have avoided this ordeal for
years, but it appears that I am trapped at
last."

With a great show of generosity, Tynan
said, "I don't want anybody to feel that I

Bette Davis broke a habit of ten years when she attended the Hollywood premiere
of her film, All This, And Heaven Too. On the left, she is shown with her mothei
entering the theatre. On the right, as they appeared ten years ago when they
attended the opening of Seed, the last formal opening at which the star appeared

Paulette Goddard, in make-up as the
half-easte girl in Northivest Mounted
Police, with one of the handsome
big Malemutes imported from Alaska

hold a grudge against this poor fellow. I
am very happy to have been the means
by which he makes such a good living."

The audience was taken in by the act
until Belasco, apparently endeavoring to
reach Tynan to shake hands with him,
hastily snatched off the white wig the
actor had worn to achieve the Belasco
aspect of saintliness. Tynan left the thea-
tre amid applause and hisses.

The next day he got a wire from the
producer saying:

YOUR IMPERSONATION WAS TOO
GOOD. BUT IT HAS ITS ADVANTAGES
FOR ME. IF I EVER GET IN TROUBLE
I SHALL TELL THEM IT WAS YOU.

Warners never did discover why Belasco
gave them the runaround. They can find
out now by inquiring of Brandon Tynan,
who is working with Ronald Colman and
Ginger Rogers in Lucky Partners at RKO.

SOUTH Of PAGO -PAGO...
Where People are Ruled by LOVE!

Jon ("Hurricane") Hall making love to Shanghai Ruby (Frances Farmer)
beneath those South Seas stars... Lovely Malia (Olympe Bradna), fighting
for her man . . . Bucko Larson (Victor McLaglen), vicious captain of a
pearl -greedy crew . . . Island girls dancing to the pulsing throb of
native drums. It's primitive! It's exciting! It's "South of Pago -Pago"!

Elsie gets some lipstick

A GOOD GIRL GETS HER
REWARD

| Hollywood careers sometimes depend
on the strangest of happenstances.
There was the waitress who caught the
eye of a casting director when she spilled
a bowl of soup on him. Cream of mush-
room, it was. And the delivery boy whose
motorcycle skidded and flung him uncon-
scious, but still mighty handsome, at the
feet of an executive who applied bandages
and contract in rapid succession. And the
gas station attendant who smiled so en-
gagingly as he wiped off the windshield
that he found himself a star almost before
he could bring back the change.

Just a few weeks ago, the careless flick
of a magazine page was responsible for
the start of a sensational new career.

It all began when Gene Towne and
Graham Baker were deep in worried con-
ference on the casting of their new pic-
ture, Little Men. They were very happy
over their choice of Kay Francis for the
part of Jo, and of Charles Winninger for
Professor Baer. You remember that the
story is a sequel to Louisa M. Alcott's
Little Women, and deals with the life of
Jo after she married the professor and

The Show Goes On

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

they started a boys' school. They had signed Jack Oakie
and Charles Esmond for other important roles, and also
young Jimmy Lydon who made such a pleasant impression
in Tom Brown's School Days.

But one vitally important spot in the cast remained to be
filled. The producers had searched for weeks, but without
success, and they were at a standstill. Without just the
right personality, the picture could not proceed, and they
did not know where to turn next.

"Did you see the last test?" asked
Towne as he flipped the pages of a maga-
zine with a worried hand.

"She's out," said Baker firmly. "Knock-
kneed. How about the one before the last?"
"Out," said Towne. "Hips too wide."
"But she has nice eyes," argued Baker.
"And I'm beginning to feel that we shall
have to make a compromise with our
ideals."

Elsie gets some powder

"But she has no temperament, no fire,
no verve!" complained Towne, and he
flipped another page of his magazine.
Then he stopped, caught his breath, stared
in growing excitement at the face that
looked up at him from an advertisement.

His dazzled eyes noted with the picture
producer's rapid awareness of detail that
the face had everything that the camera
likes best . . . the large, glowing wide-set
eyes with irises partially covered by the
lower lid and a generous amount of white
showing; the slightly tip-tilted nose; the
delicacy of modeling about the chin and
jaws; the flaring nostrils associated with
the artistic temperament. Above all, that
indefinable something that we call per-
sonality radiated from the printed page.

"I've found her!" breathed Towne.

"Eureka!" cried Baker. "Our troubles
are over!"

And that is how Elsie, the Borden cow,
went into the movies.

At least that was the start. The part-
ners wasted no time in sending a wire to
Borden's offering Elsie a contract to play
the part of Buttercup.

An answer came back promptly: "Elsie
is complimented by your offer, but she is

Below, Elsie, the Borden cow, in her
boudoir at the New York World's Fair
where she was signed to appear as But-
tercup in the new picture, Little Men

Above, Gene Towne persuading Elsie to
put her hoof-niarks on a contract for an
important part in the feature picture
which he and Graham Baker are making

Test director Harold Hendee introduces
the editor of Hollywood Magazine and
Elsie just before the newsreels were
made of Elsie's voice and mood test

EVEN IFI'mVun"

AT BEDTIME
I NEVER NEGLECT

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WITH LUX SOAP

pat Lux Soap's

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Take Hollywood's
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HAVE YOU FOUND the right care for your
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9 out of 10 Hollywood Screen Stars use Lux Toilet Soap

in an interesting condition. When do you
need her and for how long?"

Wires flew back and forth. Finally A. W.
Ramsdell, vice-president of Borden's Milk
Company, and Gene Towne waived all
thoughts of the expense and conferred
at length on the trans-continental tele-
phone.

Elsie's veterinarian had informed the
milk company executive that Elsie's calf
was expected on August 8. That meant that
Elsie would be free to accept a contract in
the early part of July, but Borden's in-
sisted that she return to the New York
World's Fair, where she is Queen of the
Borden's exhibit, in time to have her calf
in familiar surroundings. Towne and
Baker were in despair. They were con-
vinced that they had found the dream cow.
They were positive that no one else could
play the part of Buttercup so well as Elsie.
But their shooting schedule was from the
middle of July well into August. It would
cost $50,000 to rearrange it. But Borden's
officials were adamant. They insisted that
Elsie must be back by August 1.

For three days, the picture producers
argued and cajoled over the long distance
wires. Finally Towne, persistent perfec-
tionist that he is, impetuously boarded a
plane, fiew to New York to handle the
matter in person. After he had pointed
out with all of the eloquence at his com-
mand how much the part meant to Elsie,
the Borden officials generously gave way,
and, rather than spoil Elsie's chances at a
screen career, agreed to allow her little
one to be born in Hollywood.

Perhaps they realized that some per-
sonalities are destined for greatness, that
Fate marks some individuals for fame,
that none can stem the tide of a truly
great career, once it is under way. 'We
are grateful," they are reported to have
said, "that we have been able to aid Elsie
in the start of her career before the pub-
lic, and we feel that we must not selfishly
stand in her way, now that fortune calls
her to wider horizons. We feel that we
would be breaking the faith with the
public were we to deny Elsie the oppor-
tunity to add thousands of friends to the
thousands she already has made. After
all, she will return to us shortly."

Elsie has a long line of distinguished
ancestors, emigrants f rom the Isle of
Jersey, behind her, but she is entirely a
self-made cow so far as her career goes,
and owes the extraordinary position she
occupies today entirely to her own deter-
mination to make good in a highly com-
petitive field.

Of course, the beauty with which Na-
ture endowed her, and her own ability to
grasp opportunity when it passed, have
been of great aid.

Opportunity first passed when Elsie
was working as just one of the ensemble
on the Rotolactor at the New York World's
Fair. Elsie did not notice that a little group
of spectators was giving each cow es-
pecially close scrutiny as she passed on the
revolving milker. She just behaved with
the natural dignity and unaffected charm
which are among her greatest assets.

The spectators were executives of the
milk company, and they were at the Fair
for more than idle pleasure. They were

gathered in solemn conclave to select the
glamour cow of the year to represent them
in all of their advertisements. When Elsie's
half ton of bovine beauty swung into view,
as one man they voted for her.

Elsie's career might have stopped right
there, had she not accepted her good for-
tune with pride in her new responsibili-
ties, rather than conceit. She was im-
pressed, quite naturally, but she was also
touched and grateful when she was led

Maureen O'SuIlivan likes a gaily
striped cotton skirt for the last warm
days of summer idleness before she
starts her next film at M-G-M, One Came
Home, which co-stars Robert Young

out of the dormitory that she had shared
with her fellow performers, and saw the
lavishly decorated boudoir that had been
prepared for her.

This boudoir, incidentally, is being du-
plicated exactly in Hollywood so that she
will feel at home while she is at the studio.
Her stall is a Colonial four-poster with
gay red and white flouncing. On the walls

hang family portraits . . . grandmother
Buxom Bess Lobelia, painted in her bridal
veil, and great-uncle Maldemer, the Ad-
miral, in full rig.

Elsie's likeness to her grandmother is
striking. Both have the same look of being
almost too aesthetic to chew the cud, but
Elsie has something of the swagger of
the Admiral about her, too. Probably it is
from that rakish fellow that she inherits
her fire and readiness for any new ad-
venture.

She had that fiery temperament under
firm control on the day of her screen test.
She was nervous. Who wouldn't be? But,
when Director Hendee called "Camera,"
she betrayed her feelings by no more than
a certain widening of the eyes. She swal-
lowed, laid back one pink ear, flicked the
skin under the wreath of black-eyed
Susans around her neck, and went through
the ordeal with flying colors.

By the time she took her screen test,
Elsie had had wide experience before the
public. More than 8,000,000 people have
visited her at the Fair, she has entertained
the New York press at the Waldorf-As-
toria, and was hostess at the Seventh
Regiment Ball last winter. So many were
the friends and well-wishers who wished
to attend her wedding that it was held in
the vast plaza known as "The Court of
Peace" at the Fair.

Elsie is the mother of five, grandmother
of two. She is eight years old, but does not
look a day over six. Her Hollywood en-
gagement will not disrupt the life of her
family which will not accompany her. Dr.
Adrian Mills, her veterinarian; Lee Boyce,
who supervised her early training; and
Charles N. Bayer, her personal publicity
man, are considered sufficient protection.

For the journey, she wore a rich but
quiet outfit of dark-blue tailored horse
blanket, piped in yellow, with costume
jewelry of yellow and white patent leather
daisies.

Her evening costumes are carried in a
custom-made traveling case, and include
a green corduroy wrap appliqued in gold
and a more elaborate get-up, embroidered
in sequins, for very formal wear. With
this, she will wear her cloisonne and
garnet halter, and use gold polish on her
horns and hoofs.

Ordinarily, Elsie chooses no more than
the high luster of careful grooming on her
hoofs, though she does like a little mimeo-
graph ink rubbed in to give them an
added lustrous darkness.

Elsie is looking forward with uncon-
cealed pleasure to the cocktail party which
is planned for her at Ciro's in Hollywood,
where she will meet the western press
and the stars of her picture. After that,
she will leave her hoof-prints in the lobby
of Grauman's Chinese theatre, and then
proceed to the studio which she will enter
under a welcoming sign, "Through this
portal passes the most beautiful cow in
the world."

When asked to what she attributed her
outstanding success, Elsie contented her-
self with a casual wave of her tail toward
the diploma that hangs on the wall of her
boudoir.

ELSIE IS A GOOD GIRL.

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At your dealer's now — no change in wrapper.

MIXED-UP BY
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Beauty Full Teens

The teen years are full of possibilities for beauty, and
Helen Parrish, in spite of the faet that she is playing in
the picture called f 'in Sobody's Sweetheart Sow. tells
you how she keeps herself looking like a sweet heart

By ANN VERNON

B The teens can be just as beautiful as
they're supposed to be terrible. I dis-
covered that the day I lunched with Helen
Parrish in a famous Broadway hotel.
Helen is one of the freshest, sweetest,
most poised youngsters I've yet seen come
out of Hollywood, but she claims to have
her full share of troubles.

She's just seventeen, and, under Cali-
fornia law, she has to go to school even
as you and your pal next door. Helen's
school means three hours a day spent with
her teacher — which doesn't sound like
much, I'll admit, but she found it a great
bother here in New York. She wanted
to do the night clubs and theatres like any
other grown up movie star — and teacher

wouldn't let her! Not on a school night
anyway, because the next day she'd be
wanting to sleep late instead of getting up
and studying!

Helen claims she has her beauty troubles
like any other girl her age, too, but you'd

ASK ME ANOTHER

Ann Vernon can help solve all the skin, hair
and make-up questions that puzzle the teens,
and tell you how to be fresh and beautiful.
Write her today about your problem, and
enclose a stamped, self-addressed en-
velope for her reply. The address: Ann
Vernon, Beauty Editor, HOLLYWOOD Mag-
azine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

never know it to look at her. That's be-
cause she's learned how to correct them.
Naturally her young skin has the same
tendencies to over-oiliness as yours (that's
a sign of the age) and when she's indulged
in too many double chocolate sundaes, out
will pop a bothersome blossom. But a shiny
nose is just a good reason to take time
out to wash her face thoroughly with a
mild soap and warm water, before re-
powdering, and she dries up those blem-
ishes, with a medicated healing lotion.

Of course Helen wears a lot more make-
up during the day, when she's on the set,
than most of you will ever wear. And if
you think that make-up ruins skin, you
should see Helen's. It's dewy soft, and
fine textured as anyone could wish. That's
because she uses just loads of soap and
water and cream, too! She always applies
plenty of cold cream to remove the heavy
studio make-up, then takes soap, warm
water and a soft bristled complexion brush
to work up a thick cleansing lather. She
always rinses twice with cool water.

Because most young skins do tend to
oiliness and large pores, it's a good idea
to use an astringent or mild skin tonic
after washing, and always after creaming
your face. Saturate a square of cotton
with lotion, then pat it gently all over
your face and throat, paying particular
attention, please, to the corners of your
nose, your chin, and forehead where the
oil glands are thickest and busiest. Don't
ever try to make up right away; let your
skin rest for about ten minutes while the
astringent takes hold, and shrinks warm-
water enlarged pores back to normal size.

For daytime make-up when she's not
working, Helen likes just a light dusting
of powder on her pert little nose, and
a touch of lipstick. But in the evening
she wants to be just as glamorous as any
other movie star, so she adds the faintest
hint of blue eyeshadow, and a bit of black
mascara, oh so skillfully applied, to darken
her reddish lashes . . . Helen uses a lip
brush to paint on her lipstick so that she
gets the curves of her mouth just right!
And you can bet your allowance that she
picks a lipstick with a creamy base to
keep her lips soft and smooth.

H That's a lovely evening hair-do Helen
is wearing in this photograph, but
ordinarily she does her own hair, chooses
a much simpler style so that she can do it
up on bob pins quickly. She has dis-
covered that hair dries much faster when
moistened with light curling lotion, or
scented cologne — and she likes cologne
better because it smells so nice!

I suppose most of you would like me
to get right down to cases and tell you
about special toiletries that will help you
be just as lovely at seventeen as Helen
Parrish is, so here goes. First, I do want
to tell you about the soap she uses not
once but several times a day. It's a bland
white cake that froths into myriad bub-
bles practically as soon as it hits water —
but doesn't get smudgy in the process.
It seems to get right to work and remove
all stale make-up, dirt and excess oils —
without irritating your skin in the pro-
cess. You'll like its faint and delicate
[Continued on page 57]

vma*c

with this Fragrance Men Love

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Soap, with its appealing fragrance, is the

dainty way to combat body stateness.

"\7"OU'RE doubly enchanting, young
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of romance. For no man wants his idol to
have "feet of clay." And you can be ever
so perfect in make-up, hair-do, and cos-
tume— but if the scent from your skin is
not delicate, and lady-like, then BOOM!
The romance is off!

Instinctively, you will prefer this costly
perfume of Cashmere Bouquet. For
Cashmere Bouquet is the onlv fragrance
of its kind in the world, a secret treasured
by us for years. It's a fragrance men love.
A fragrance with peculiar affinity for the
senses of men.

Massage each tiny ripple of your
body with this delicate, cleansing lather!

Glory in the departure of unwelcome
body staleness. Thrill as your senses are
kissed by Cashmere Bouquet's exquisite
perfume. Be radiant, and confident to
face the world!

You'll love this creamy-white soap for
complexion, too. Its gentle, caressing
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So buy Cashmere Bouquet Soap before
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DURA-GLOSS

Lovely, expressive, provocative — every motion of your hands,
their creamy loveliness accentuated by the flame-red, exciting
brilliance of Dura-Gloss, the new, the different nail polish
created specially to make your fingernails the most beautiful
fingernails in the world! Dura-Gloss has swept America, has
risen to unbelievable heights of popularity — yes, especially
among women who willingly spent a dollar for nail polish
before! Yet Dura-Gloss awaits you now, in twenty fashion-
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that tiniest silver coin — a dime! For the sake of new loveliness
for your fingernails — change to Dura-Gloss, before sun sets today!

The New and Better Nail Polish by LORR

For your smart fall
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FOUNDED BY E. T. REYNOLDS

Actor At Armageddon

Robert Montgomery has played
a hero in eonntless films but now
he has won the title in real life by
four weeks' service in the Ameri-
can Red Cross at the war front

Ry WILBUR MORSE. JR.

Robert Montgomery behind the
wheel of the ambulance which he
drove for heartbreaking days
at the front under German fire

■ Back from a battered, bleeding,
bewildered France, where for
more than a month he drove an am-
bulance under fire at the front, Rob-
ert Montgomery arrived in New
York on a transatlantic
Clipper, a few weeks ago, to
give a graphic picture of the
brutal blitzkrieg of Hitler's
hordes.

"It was a living hell! . . .
It was more horrible than
any words can describe.
Whole towns in the beauti-
ful, peaceful countryside of
France were literally blown
to pieces ... A gallant army
was butchered in its retreat
. . . No one was spared . . .
Millions of homeless, im-
poverished refugees pushed
on, ever southward, like
droves of frightened ani-
mals, until they fell asleep,
exhausted, by the roadside,
or were bombed or strafed
. . . Even ambulances, with
their cargoes of helpless,
shattered souls, were a tar-
get for the death -dealing
Nazi planes."

Montgomery left for
America just as France sued
for peace; left because the
German airraids which had
so effectively prepared the
way for a smashing invasion had
also taken toll of the Red Cross ma-
chines of mercy. With the chief am-
bulance factories blown up in the
first bombing of Paris, and half the
ambulances in service wrecked on
the road, there simply weren't
enough machines for the drivers.

Montgomery, Red Cross of-
ficials felt, would be more
useful in the campaign to
raise funds back in America,
telling first hand of the urgent
needs for relief, recounting
his own harrowing experi-
ences, than sitting idly in an
ambulance garage, emptied
by German shells.

And the tales Bob had to
tell were both harrowing and heart-
rending.

He had seen Paris, glittering in
the springtime splendor of its broad
boulevards, canopied by chestnut
trees, bombed and then surrendered.
He had been in the thickest of the
Battle of France, the fierce fighting
around Amiens, and the terrible re-
treat from the Somme. His own am-
bulance had been bombed and he
had seen the Red Cross, heretofore
a symbol of safe conduct for the
wounded, mercilessly machine-
gunned.

The seared, sober-minded man
who quietly recited experiences in
war-ravaged Europe was a far dif-
ferent Bob Montgomery than the
gay-minded, easy-mannered young
actor who had sailed to England a
year ago. His eyes were the eyes of
a man who has seen death, destruc-
tion and despair.

There was nothing of the thrill-
seeking adventurer in Montgom-
ery's decision to offer his services
to the Red Cross.

For the last year Bob had been in
England, save for a short visit to
Hollywood during the winter, mak-
ing M-G-M [Continued on page 531

Thinner than when he left, tired
and care-worn, Montgomery wave*
to friends as he leaves the Clipper
which brought him to New York

"Jesse James was shot in
the back! If the law won't
take care of his murderers,
I will — or my name's not
Frank James!"

"^^ THE SPECTACULAR
* CLIMAX TO THE
DARING EXPLOITS OF
THE WORLD'S MOST
FAMOUS OUTLAWS!

THE RETURN OF

GENE

JACKIE

HENRY

TIERNEY • COOPER • HULL

ohn Carradine • J. Edward Bromberg
nald Meek • Eddie Collins • George Barbier

Produced by Darryl F. Zanuck

Associate Producer Kenneth Macgowan

Directed by Fritz Lang

Original Screen Play by Sam Hellmart

A 20th Century-Fox Picture

. -5*-.-.-"

MORE EXCITING AND COLORFUL THAN THE UNFORGETTABLE JESSE JAMES"!

fc\

Gale Pages ReduSi

Above and center, Gale Page
was photographed behind a
door or a Lane sister all
through Four Wives. Above,
after dieting for four weeks

Gale Page loves to eat, but she
found out that "spreads*' spread
it on, and so found a diet for
quick reduction. Here is how she
lost 38 pounds in three months

By RILLA PAGE PALMBORG

| "In our family we celebrate everything from
Tabby presenting us with a new batch of
kittens to my getting a hoped-for movie role,
with a 'spread.' A 'spread' in our household
means good eats, not a coverlet.

"My earliest memory of a 'spread' in my
honor was in celebration of my first trip to the
dentist. I was five. I still act as though I were
five whenever I have to go to the dentist. And
mother still gives me a 'spread' whenever I
screw up enough courage to do so. That is she
used to. In the future, I guess 'spreads' are tabu,
since they have almost been my downfall."

Gale Page, trim and wispy, glanced dubiously
at a large plate of green salad the waitress in
Warner Brothers' commissary, placed on the table
before her. Thirty-eight pounds lighter since I
had seen her a little over three months before,
Gale had consented to tell the readers of Holly-
wood, how she got that way. "However, she cau-
tioned, any person who wants to lose weight
must first consult a [Continued on page 46]

Gale Page, 38 pounds lighter,
as she appears in Knute
Rockne — All American. Pat
O'Brien is shown in astonish-
ing make-up as the great coach

Somebody Ought To Tell Her!

James Stewart lives by himself, bat not alone.
Wonderful and fearful are the emergencies and the
surprises that hospitable Jimmy eneounters in his
home life from his strangely assorted house guests

By HELEN LOUISE WALKER

| As this is written, both Olivia de
Havilland and Jimmy Stewart deny
at the top of their lungs — even before you
ask them — that they will be married soon
or even ever. The Wise People at the
corner tables in Ciro's look knowingly and
admonish, "Don't let 'em fool you!"

My hunch is — But why should I stick
my pretty neck out and reveal any
hunches about Hollywood marriages?
After what I've let myself in for recently
at the races?

But it does seem that if Olivia — or any
other lovely — contemplates matrimony
with this most, oh, most attractive and
eligible gentleman, there are a few little

Left, James Stewart with Olivia de Havil-
land, who, according to the rumors,
may have a good deal to say
soon about his home

It looks comfortable,

but the only trouble is

that James, the cordial host,

has more guests than beds

things she really should know. In all likelihood Jimmy would
take her right home to his house which is furnished and staffed
and has iceboxes and fireplaces and — nice bowls for salad — but —
Well, do you think it would startle a prospective bride too much
if you told her why her husband-to-be snatches the trade papers
so eagerly every morning, and bends almost agonized attention
to the notices of departures of friends from points East for the
Coast? Last time we noticed him, he was muttering, "Hmm-mm!
Burgess Meredith planning to come out. Last time he said he
didn't have enough blankets. Must remember to order more
blankets! Doesn't say when he'll arrive. Blankets . . . blankets. . ."
An hour or so later Jimmy was at the telephone, ordering three
new deck chairs and a dozen bath towels. "What about the
blankets — for Meredith?" we wanted to know. "Did I say
blankets? Oh, gosh! Well, what did I order? Well I can't be
bothered now. Meredith always takes my bed, anyhow, and I
have enough blankets. What I should have ordered was a longer
couch. That's where I'll have to sleep. . . ."

I mean — well, it isn't merely that Stewart is in chronic danger
of finding dear old friends from somewhere occupying all of the
beds in the house when he returns from an evening of dancing
(or maybe, this time of getting married!) There are certain other

James Stewart in the early
morning leaving home for
the studio, and shooting on
his new film, No Time for
Comedy at Warner Bros.

Evening, and thoughtful
Jimmy builds up a fire,
even if he has forgotten to
order dinner for a score of
his hungry house guests

idiosyncrasies of the Stewart manor which may need explaining
and possible readjustment. Things seem to move along smoothly
enough. But there is a certain lack of what I believe experts in
domestic science call "direction and co-ordination" which might
elicit a gasp or two from a wife.

One is a habit Jimmy has of inviting twelve or fifteen people
to dinner, informing Daisy, the cook, and then cancelling the
party and forgetting to inform her. Now, Daisy is not a tempera-
mental soul but she is a woman. She takes pride in her cooking
and any woman who has ever glazed a ham or molded a shim-
mering "company salad" will know that it is simply no laughing
matter if no one turns up to admire and digest these masterpieces.
Occasionally Jimmy does the trite masculine thing and invites
people and forgets to inform Daisy. That is a mere challenge to
her ingenuity and she surmounts these occasions with triumphant
good nature. But Daisy is no patient Stella Dallas at heart and
if she plans a party she wants the party to happen. I suspect
that she'd mention this to an incoming Mrs. S.

There might be other problems anent Daisy, jewel though she
is. Jimmy maintains that there is a faint aura of mystery about
her at all times. He is certain that she is psychic. Else how can
there always be enough food in the house for whatever number
of people he brings home at odd hours — while the grocery bills
never seem to bulge? Frankly, this scares Jimmy.

And Daisy has a certain horror of and violent aversion to the
use of anything which she thinks of as "machinery." This quirk
has saved her employer money on such things as exploding
electric toasters and self-turning-over waffle irons. But this

That worn expression is due
to hours of waiting for the
telephone. Jimmy's friends
are many and they keep it
busy for hours at a time

Another harried look be-
cause James, the good pro-
vider, just has realized that
he had meant to buy
blankets, not food supplies

It keeps a man busy, just
knowing what is in the ice-
box and trying to be ready
for any number of callers

This is the answer to too
much social life at home.
Jimmy's Own plane can get
him far away from it all

feeling of Daisy's extends to the telephone which she views
with especially dark suspicion. On the rather rare oc-
casion when she is obliged to answer it, she does it in so
sepulchral a voice that more than one friend has jumped to
the nervous conclusion that murder has just been done
in the Stewart menage. Her remarks are confined to a
low, "No!" This means that Mr. Stewart isn't in. Further
inquiries elicit a mere, "I — don't — know!" delivered in a
voice which could mean simply anything. And those are
the absolute limits of Daisy's telephone vocabulary.

Malcolm, now, is different. Malcolm is a sort of house-
boy valet who was left over among some other odds and
ends one time when Burgess Meredith was suddenly called
back to New York. Jimmy is devoted to him . . . and just
let Meredith try to get him back! When Malcolm answers
the phone and someone inquires for Mr. Stewart, Malcolm
begins at the beginning — tells the [Continued on page 48]

M . *AT. JULY 1*. !■»•

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— <^t_e_

6»*V\tee

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Private Letters

fa V^X^.

of Jeanette MacDonald

| Jeanette MacDonald is a living proof
of the saying, "The more you have to
do, the more you can accomplish."

Even in the midst of picture produc-
tion, when there seem to be a dozen dif-
ferent demands on every minute of the
day, her desk remains reasonably clear,
her correspondence is never neglected,
even though her letters frequently number
hundreds a week. Jeanette is an inveter-
ate letter writer because she is a firm
believer in putting things on paper. Once
in a while things "carried in the head" are
forgotten and produce hurt feelings or
embarrassments, so a flurry of little notes
about dozens of different matters leaves
her studio dressing-room every day. Her
calendar pad is crowded with jotted notes
of reminders to herself and her secretary.

When she is busy at the studio, letters
are dictated on the set between scenes,

The correspondence of a
movie star covers dozens
of different matters. Here
is your chance to spend a
day at Jeanette's desk and
see how she deals with
this important problem

By SOMA LEE

in her own quarters at noontime, and at
any other moment she may find herself
free. When she has the day at home, part
of each morning, frequently a good part
of the whole day, is spent at the dainty
writing table in her sitting room.

The first half hour always is devoted to
letters to intimate friends . . . bread-and-
butter notes, acceptances of invitations,
thank-you notes and her own invitations.
These she usually writes on double cards,
the size of a calling card. "Mr. and Mrs.
Gene Raymond" is engraved on the front,
and her note, in long hand, of course, is
jotted on the inside.

Notes to her associates at the studio
regarding matters incident to work are
dictated to her secretary who later types
them.

Today there is a matter of wardrobe.
Adrian had submitted sketches and
samples. Jeanette writes:

"Dear Adrian: The sketches are di-
vine! And I agree with you on the
coloring. The blue bodice should be a
trifle deeper than the skirt, blending
the two [Continued on page 58]

lJKoon/'
I P.M-t*
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J P.M.
4 P.M. |
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Private Letters

of Jeanette MacDonald

■ Jeanette MacDonald is a living proof
of the saying, "The more you have to
do, the more you can accomplish."

reminders to herself and her secretory.

When she is busy at the studio, letters
are dictated on the set between scenes.

Tin- 4*orr4>.s|M»mli»ni'<* f»f a
movl<> Ninr oovera dozen!
<ii <iiii.-r.nl matlera. Here

In j-bpp clianrr lo n|m'I1«I ••
dn.vnl Jeanetle'i ili'nk ami
■ee ii»w ">■■•■ deal* "i'l"
this Important problem

II v SOMA LEE

in her own quarters at noontime, and nl

any other moment she

free Whl

of each morning,

of the whole day. Il I-

' bi i ind

buttei i

1 1,. i l i

uid hi i

Remember ?

If you are just a little bit tired
of defending the head-gear of
1940, tnrn back with us through
Hollywood's files and see if you
don't find a few kind words to
be said for today's giddy hat

1920. Aileen Pringle

1921. Gladys George

1936. Alice Fare

1937. Olivia de Ha villand

HOLLYWOOD

1938. Merle Oberon

SEPTEMBER, 1940

1939. Sonja Henie

1940. Joan Bennett

Mischa Auer fore-
casts the future

"I'm Glad I Wasn't Married

Mill •''

,y,

.31 ^fj

100 Years Ago"

Says Tyrone Power

His part in Brigham Young started a
discussion about marriage and produced
this provocative interview with the star

By KATE JOHNS

i:-->"

■■

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!!».:

At the top, Tyrone Power and Jane Darwell in a scene
from Brigham Young which illustrates very clearly the
strenuous part pioneer women undertook in the work of
the community. Right, another scene from the stirring
tale of the brave souls who pushed the empire westward.
Those were the days when women had to be nurses and
cooks, fighters and peacemakers, teachers and seam-
stresses, explorers and home-builders all at once. Center,
Power and his lovely wife, Annabella, who is all of those
things and has time to be a good companion as well

■ There is a clean-cut directness about
everything Tyrone Power says and
does. So it happened he said:

"I'm glad I wasn't married in 1847."

There also is a clean-cut honesty in his
thinking processes, so he added truthfully:

"I'm glad I wasn't anything a hundred
years ago."

We were stumbling down a rough hill-
side, knee deep in wild oats, when he made
the statement about 1847 marriage. It
wasn't as irrelevant as it seems, for we
were on location at Agoura, some forty
miles from Hollywood, where a trek scene
of Brigham Young was being filmed.
Understandably enough, marriage and
Brigham Young are synonomous in the
average mind, since the great Mormon
leader had twenty -seven- legal wives.

Ty, incidentally, plays a Mormon in the
picture. His role is that of Jonathan, a
young adventurer Who crossed the plains
in that perilous pioneer trek of 1845-1847,
and who served as a scout for Brigham
Young. Woven into the story of hardship
and danger is the love story of Jonathan
and Zina, a young girl not of the Mormon
faith who is orphaned during early per-
secutions of the Saints. Linda Darnell
plays Zina.

It was natural many of the cast includ-
ing Ty found themselves wondering about
some of the phases of marriage in those
early days among the Mormons. I thought
he was referring to polygamy when he said
he was glad he was not married in 1847.

He set me straight in a hurry. "I'm talk-
ing about marriage in general and look-
ing at it in the broad social sense," he
said. "Polygamy was part of the Mormon
faith in those early days before the turn
of the century, and, as such, I regard it as
something which was their concern and
nobody's business. But even if you want
to argue that, you can't escape the
recorded fact that a scant two per cent of
the Mormon families practiced polygamy,
and two per cent is a negligible figure in
the consideration of any subject as a whole,
No, I am referring to marriage as it was in
New York, Chicago, or Podunk in 1847
as against 1940."

I liked the fairness of his attitude and
the tolerance of his stand when he had a
wide open chance to pop off with some-
thing sensational. That, too, is like him;
he doesn't let an individual tree block his
view of the forest. Incidentally we were
enjoying a bit of forest just then; we found
a cool spot in the shade of a big tree and
rested in it while teamsters struggled to
hitch some fractious oxen to several
covered wagons perched precariously on
the hillside above us. Ty watched the
battle with interest until I pulled him
back with a question about the chief
advantage of 1940 marriage as he saw it.

"There are two people in it now, which
makes it twice as good," he said promptly.

I suggested he was kidding, because
marriage always has concerned two
people.

"That's just it," he said. "It has con-
cerned two people, but, until recent times,
comparatively speaking, there has been
only one person in it, the man. He was the
dominant, the only force. The woman
rated the importance of an after-
thought. She was, in effect, just
another possession. It always strikes
me as a hangover from those days
when I see a man sign a hotel register
as John Jones and wife. Sounds like
John Jones and car. John Jones
and farm."

The male stranglehold on marriage
was broken by women grad-
ually emerging from the sha-
dowy background of the
relationship as individuals of
equal importance and respon-
sibility he thought. To a large
extent, higher education for
women was the underlying
reason.

"Aside from the rather pat-
ronizing attitude of men that

Ox teams such as this were
used in the painfully long
trip across the vast plain
to the promised land, Utah

any education beyond the basic three R's
was unnecessary for women, the physical
drudgery in which the average woman
was enslaved in running her household
left no time for it," he said. "It wasn't
so long ago, remember, that women
ground their own flour, raised their own
vegetables, even spun their own cloth for
clothes. True, some were fortunate enough
to be able to hire that work done for
them, but such freedom was the exception,
not the rule.

"With the coming of many inventions
and the industrial progress of the last fifty
years, those heavy tasks were taken from
women's shoulders, leaving her time for
higher education and the development of
her individual talents. It's ridiculous to
picture Frances Perkins over a Monday
morning wash tub or Dorothy Thomp-
son weeding her potato patch. Yet
the picture would not be far-fetched
at all if women's economic status
was today what it was in the 19th
century."

[Continued on
page 38]

Mary Astor plays one of the
wives of Brigham Young and
Dean Jagger is seen as the
Mormon prophet, himself

Tyrone Power plays a young
Mormon. Linda Darnell and
little Ann Todd play mem-
bers of the pioneer band

s-^*5.

W ■ '- *****

^:^k

■ Unless war has terribly inter-
vened, or armistice terms have
worked to keep sweethearts apart,
Madeleine Carroll will be married
when this reaches you.

In that case you will know the name
of her "mystery man" — a name she
zealously guarded through many
months, for reasons we will examine.

But you are not likely to know, till
now, what manner of man this "Cap-
tain X" is — a man for whom one of
the world's most beautiful women,
with everything in the world to live
for, took off, through lowering mists,
to fly the Atlantic and try to beat
Hitler to Paris. In this article we will
look at that man. We will hear him
speak. We will understand the ter-
rific forces which combined with his
appeal (what a man he must be!)
to make a head-controlled young
woman say, for the first time in her
life, "Heart, take over!"

In New York, in June, I was doing
a small job for Allied relief. Made-
leine was doing a large one. It was
my privilege to be with her part of
each day — those last ten days before
I handed her onto the Atlantic Clip-
per. I don't know which was the more
stirring in drama, that period of
terror, strain and longing before she
flew or that other time of stress when
her Fate, wearing a blue uniform
with gold wings on his collar, walked
into a Paris home. And she, with war
about to tear these new-found ac-
quaintances instantly apart, knew —
in the catch of a breath — what had
happened to her.

Maybe great love comes at great
times. Maybe the individual is what
counts most. You judge. I'll tell the
events in the order they happened.
It's a tale to make the heart beat
quick.

On Sep- [Continued on page 60]

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Net Profit for Lynn

/"N

If it had not been for a tennis
match, Jeffrey Lynn might never
have courted fame in Hollywood

■ Funny thing what tennis can do.

If he had only been a slap-happy handball player
or a badminton addict, that valuable property of the
Warner Brothers known as Jeffrey Lynn might never
have ended up as public idol number one to those who
like their idols boyish, sensitive-looking and wearing
an air of having negotiated the multiplication tables
without mortal pain.

If he had been either of these he might be, even now,
serving as a member of some high school faculty in
Maine — or, maybe, an instructor at Bates College —
worrying his head about whether to give the kids Hamlet
or Macbeth to study next fall.

But no! He had to be a tennis player, so-so on fore-
court play, an assassin on service.

He told us all about it not so long ago after a dazed
waiter attached to a Manhattan tap-room took off in
.pursuit of a tall ginger ale for the identical Mr. Lynn
who zoomed the country's ken in Four Daughters and
was starred in Money and the Woman after he finished
My Love Came Back opposite Olivia de Havilland.

Mr. Jeffrey Lynn is handsomer than he photographs
on the screen, less grave-looking, and a miniature Mount
Vesuvius of energy. Once he's started he's gone like
the wind, displaying a talent for fooling, conversation
and story-telling second-to-none, so definitely second-
to-none that even the Warner attache who was there to
inject a hypodermic in the conversation when it began
to lag was thoroughly awed. A waggish West Coast
Warner colleague had sent the news ahead that Lynn
never smiled, talked only of Greek tragedy and com-
muned with the spirits. And here was Mr. Lynn fairly
going to town!

"Up until that moment when a passion for tennis
changed my life, I was completely innocent of any such
insane notion that one day a studio would be spoiling
film on me. I was entrenched as the head of the English
department of the Lisbon (Maine) High School. I was
being of service to humanity. Of course, I was. Furthermore, I was
enlightening the youth. That's how it is with apprentice educators.
We're all noble and full of sacrifices."

The Warner man chuckled at Mr. Lynn's ironies. Mr. Lynn, all
ablush, went on.

"I led a triple life back in Lisbon. Mornings, in my classes, I'd in-
troduce my proteges to such sundry literary citizens as Old Scrooge
and Pocahontas, Peter Pan and Barbara Fritchie.

"Afternoons I would round up a posse of the junior and senior boys
and coach them, in season, in baseball, basketball and track. It so
happens that track was my true love. As a laddie I had picked up a

By JOHN R. FRANCHEY

J/ *

thing or two about running the half-mile — I ran the dis-
tance at Bates College — not to mention a drawer full of
watches. Some of my boys began to look like junior
meteors before long.

"Nights, when I wasn't busy at home correcting the

masterpieces of my scholars, I would be listening to Amos

and Andy or Ed Wynn over the radio. Those gentlemen

haunted me. In fact, they virtually bunked with me. You

see the landlady had a yen for both

these worthies, . and whenever they

came on the air, she turned the radio

on full blast, so as to share her joy.

The old Fire Chief and the two Harlem

glamour boys did everything but take

their meals with us.

"It finally dawned
on me that since I
was already a martyr
to education, I might
extend myself and
bring drama — of a
sort — to Lisbon. So I

rounded up the local ^^
stage-struck, and we
went to work. I
learned an awful lot
about the stage from those kids. As
linor veteran of the Bates
Players I had taken it for granted
that I knew, at least, the bare
fundamentals. But seeing plays
from the other side of the
footlights gave me the true
perspective that was absent
during my acting apprentice-
ship, when I was sporting the
drama colors of the Brockton
(Mass.) Y. M. C.A players.
"We had us a swell time
making lights out of tin
cans, reworking a dis-
carded Victorian gown
into a party dress for a
Jk Noel Coward smart-set

jt^^L comedy and putting on

WL plays with m a x i m u m

«■ H stealth so as not to attract

{Continued on page 50]

Lamour — Disaster Expert

Bv WIMI Itl l» AYHELOTTi:

*<%^.

Delicate, dainty Dorothy Lamour is suffering
another set of studio-contrived catastrophes
all for the sake of her career and Typhoon

■ In the good old days, Pearl White was always being hurled
over cliffs, fastened to railroad tracks, trapped in burning
buildings, thrown under the stampeding hooves of wild cattle,
swirled through South Sea Island floods, and all of us fortunate
enough to remember the good old days marvelled at her. Remem-
ber the time she was towed through the briny deep by a speed
boat that appeared to be doing a hundred miles an hour? A rope
around her waist and the villain's fiendish speed combined to
make her bounce like a cork from wave to smacking wave, which
was hard on her anatomy, and almost caused the extinction of au-
diences from strangulation.

But all that is nothing, says Dorothy Lamour, compared with
what she has gone through, and I'm inclined to agree with her,
for the genius of Hollywood technical men for inventions of tor-
ture hadn't been developed, in the time of the shirt-waist serial,
to its present exquisite perfection. Dorothy Lamour has been an
expertly battered, tempest-tossed, drenched, scratched, bitten,
drowned, whipped, hurricaned sacrifice on the altar of Holly-
wood art, and if you think she has fun wearing a sarong and
having cinematic Acts of God aimed at her, think again. Holly-
wood can improve on any of nature's disasters, and the only vir-
tue of the sarong is that Miss Lamour has not yet drowned be-
cause of the soggy weight of too many clothes.

She has been on the receiving end of more fury of the ele-
ments than any other star in Hollywood. The inventors of the
whip-up-the-waves and the rain machines, and the man who
thought of using airplane propellers to put the "gone" into wind,
have tried hard to blow the gal down and, having failed so far,
are probably even now working in devilish glee on a brand new
instrument of torture. More fun, they think. I wonder how much
our victim can take? Well, she hasn't been killed yet, but that's
about the best that can be said. And Hollywood hasn't yet cast
her in an ice-age picture, which is fortunate, for the studio's im-
provers-upon-nature would probably use dry ice.

Pearl White, petite and blond and physically hard as nails,
had had long and arduous training for her cinemartyrdom. Dor-
othy Lamour, petite and brunette and having nothing at all in
common with a nail, had had no training at all. Swimming was
her only athletic accomplishment. By the time Pearl White was
thirteen years of age, she had taught herself the uneasy art of
trick bareback riding, and she was an expert flying trapeze artist
at sixteen. Nothing could faze her; she had made her body an
obedient instrument, and was known as an extraordinarily ver-
satile athlete. She probably thought nothing of it as she dangled
over a cliff with only a fingernail hold and the villain about to
step on that. (To be continued next week.) The Serial Queen
had been born to do daring stunts. Her early years had been spent
preparing physically for them, and her friendship with the Ring-
ling Brothers had put her in the proper frame of mind for any
circus-like feat.

Not so Dorothy Lamour. She had been prepared for nothing
more strenuous than verbal combats with Charlie McCarthy. Her
years before the hazards of Hollywood were spent in school, en-
tering beauty contests, and singing with Herbie Kay's orchestra

HOLLYWOOD

Limbering up her vocal chords was about her only exercise. And
while Miss Lamour's chassis is a very nice assemblage indeed, and
her measurements would stack up creditably against Miss White's,
she came to Hollywood a veritable softie and expecting, if not abso-
lute luxury, the reasonable care given to valuable picture property.
She was totally unprepared for violence of any sort, and innocently
imagined glittering night clubs, a steam-heated apartment, break-
fast in bed, hot and cold running water, and a cherishing attitude
on the part of the studio.

And what did she get? She got The Jungle Princess, construction-
camp living quarters where 180 men also lived (this was "on loca-
tion" about forty miles from Hollywood), bed at nine on an army
cot in a tent, and a cold caused by being immersed over a period of
eight days in a mountain stream composed of melted ice. A nice
welcome to Hollywood!

"Every morning I got up at six o'clock and walked, climbed, fell
and crawled for forty-five minutes oyer a path a mountain goat
would have blanched at, to what was humorously called the set.
This was a cave so inaccessible that no car or horse could get to it.
Snakes could, though, and I'm not partial to them. We were there
for three weeks," Miss Lamour told me, "and every day I had to
wear grease paint all over my body to give me that nice sun- tanned
appearance. Every evening a hundred people beat me back to camp.
While I was getting the grease paint off with mineral oil, every one
of those hundred people took showers, with the result that I never
had a drop of hot water the whole time I was there. I acquired a
terrible case of make-up poisoning, a cold, and a long sojourn in the
hospital."

A howling mob manhandled her in High, Wide and Handsome,
and left her black and blue; and while making Jungle Love she had
to go in swimming when she had a temperature of 103 degrees. She
almost died. She didn't really have to go in, but it would have
meant holding up production and Miss Lamour is cursed with a
conscience that will not allow her to waste the studio's money.
During this picture she also suffered a severe case of sunburn and
another cold.

In Hurricane, she was the target of thousands of gallons of water,
whipped by wind machines and dumped down sixty-foot chutes.
Of course she caught another cold, but that wasn't the worst of it.
One day, while tied to the tree that saved her from being swept
away by the wind into the swirling waters, she fainted. She had
been having a continuous pain and didn't know that it was her ap-
pendix until the doctor examined her. She went on working for
three more months with a doctor on the set every day, and then
went to the hospital.

"Have you ever tried to keep your feet while standing in front
of a single airplane propeller?" asked Miss Lamour. "Well, in
Hurricane they turned thirty-five wind machines on me at once.
It was fantastic — unbearable. It was like the end of the world. I
couldn't think or feel— I almost lost my senses."

■ Typhoon handed her a lot of physicalamities. She had her
usual cold from exposure, cut her feet badly running over
stones, and was dunked by 25,000 gallons of water lashed into an-
other fury by the same old wind machines, an outrigger canoe tipped
over and eight people fell on top of her and nobody rescued her
because they couldn't see her in the confusion of the storm; ten
wind machines were set up on the wrong side of the little sail boat
and instead of blowing the sail away from her, they blew the heavy
boom right at her. It conked her on the bridge of the nose and the
black eyes she sported for days were lulus. [Continued on page 56]

SEPTEMBER, 1940

Sandy, it seems, doesn't like to eat her strawberries.
"A simple matter to correct by proper training," claims
Herbert. "The first thing to do is to win confidence"

| I more or less expected to find as-
sorted live stock around the place
when I went out to visit Hugh Herbert
at his Old English farmhouse just north
of Hollywood proper, but by gosh! I wasn't
prepared for Josephine.

Josephine is as buxom a bit of gold-
fish as ever you will see. That I can
promise you. Her piscatorial pulchritude
is to the fish world what Lillian Russell's
ample glamour must have been to her era.
From the tip of her snout to the end of
her gently waving fantail, Josephine
measures an incredible twenty-four inches
or better, and every ounce of her five
pounds is just one mass of glittering,
golden loveliness! In addition, she has
personality. That's obvious, the way she
swishes around and absolutely lords it over
the piscine hoi polloi who can do no better
than a runty five or six inches.

Josephine lives in the great pool just in
front of the house, and Hugh
took me and my lugubrious
partner, Mr. Charles Rhodes, to
call on her the moment we ar-
rived. Standing on the fancy
arched bridge over the pond, he
called to her in a dulcet whis-
per and she came swimming up
as languidly as you please,
oomph all over the place!

"World's largest goldfish in
captivity," Hugh announced
proudly. "No question about it."

"Looks like a carp to me," Mr.

Rhodes commented. "Not good eating."

Hugh gave him a hurt look. Plainly it
was a case of love me, love my goldfish.
Then he turned to me with a cheery smile.
"I call her Josephine," he said. I said
"Why?"

"That's a silly question," he said. "Why
did Napoleon?" He had me there, so I
kept my mouth shut. After a gloomy
silence, Hugh must have remembered he
was my host, because he tried to patch
things up. "She does tricks, too," he said.
"I taught 'em to her. Look, I'll show you."

Word of honor, Josephine swam up
when he whistled and went through an
amazing routine of spins, backflops, belly-
rolls, and nose-dives with no more than an
occasional hand signal from Hugh.

"Astounding!" I said, and even Mr.
Rhodes thought it was pretty good for a

The clever confidence man never alarms
subject. First he strikes up a friendship

carp. "How did you ever train her?"

"I won her confidence," he said in a
matter-of-fact way. "Learned a new
method for it in my latest picture, Slightly
Tempted, in which I play a super Con-
fidence Man. Absolutely infallible, the
system". Works like a charm. Can be ap-
plied to anything from ape to zebra."

"How about a baby?" I asked.

"Simplest thing in the world," he tossed
off. "Bring one out some time and I'll
show you."

I'm not one to kick an offer like that in
the teeth, so I brought him a baby. I
brought him Baby Sandy Henville with
whom he co-starred in the Universal pic-
ture, Little Accident. I thought it was
giving him an edge at the time, using a
baby he knew, but I can see now it was
something of a [Continued on page 44]

Successful confidence man should be able
to discuss victim's hobbies with authority

Success! Sandy's initial reserve is
breaking down and she conies closer

Show babies that yon take pleasure
in play before you try any training

Children are quick to see through a

disguise, and Sandy shows contempt

Flatter your subject by attention,
says Herbert, and you can't fail

It is wise to fascinate the child
by feats of strength and skill, too

When you have the child crying for
more tricks, the goal is in sight

**"«3»_ -V*

Alway9 let a baby take you at cards,
says Herbert. It cements friendship

Show cooperation in playing new
games, even if the stakes are low

If the child seems interested in
stacking the deck, do not object

After all; your goal is to get the
strawberries eaten. Set an example

Even if you don't like strawberries
either, you better see it through

Sandy, a quick study, tries a little
confidence game on Hugh Herbert

They say that working in the movies
is the life of Riley . . . just one gay
round of fun, but Bi-enda Joyce is
one young actress who will lift a
rather exhausted voice in denial.
On this page are just a few of the
strenuous moments in her part in
Elsa Maxwell's Public Deb No. 1.
Top, she is telling it to the judge.
2. George Murphy carries her out
of a night club. 3. Chained to a
table. 4. Violent argument with
Mischa Auer. 5. Fight with George
Murphy. 6. A spanking . . . and
real. 7. A jitterbug contest.
8. Looks as if she really means it!

Right, John Wayne, John Qualen and
Thomas Mitchell, weak from thirst on
the hulk of the S. S. Glencairn, look
with longing at the promise of rain
in the sky. Below, John Wayne with
Carmen Morales in a scene from The
Long Voyage Home, a film made
from four one-act plays written by
famous playwright Eugene O'Neill

The Long Voyage Home

Our favorite extra goes to sea, where he decides to become
a cowboy the first niinnte he possibly can manage to do it

By E. J. (The Ancient Mariner) SMITHSON

No two-dollar words of mine can tell
you how sorry I am about grabbing off
a few days' work on The Long Voyage
Home instead of on Kit Carson. I'm not
only sorry about making the switch, but
I'm sore — and that goes physically and
mentally. I can see — and feel — now, where
I made my mistake. It all takes a lot of tell-
ing, but of one thing you can be sure. I'll
never again be in such a hurry to jump
from one extra job to another for the sake
of grabbing off a day or two of work. It's
too hard on the muscles and nerves.

If you've read this far and have a hunch
that The Long Voyage Home isn't going to
prove more than such-a-much picture and
that I'm crabbing because I got mixed up
in an unimportant production, you can
kick THAT idea right out of your mind
here and now. The Long Voyage Home is
what we'uns loafing on Vine Street be-
tween jobs classify as a Triple-A hum-
dinger. John Ford, the director, has done
a superlative job; Gregg Toland, the cam-
eraman, has accomplished a more artistic
photography in this picture of the sea than
he did in Wuthering Heights, which won
for him a 1939 Academy Award; and
Dudley Nichols, who won an Academy
Award several years ago for his screen-
play on The Informer (directed by John
Ford) , has taken the four one -act plays by
Eugene O'Neill and fused them into a
script worthy of another Academy Award.
Yes'm, The Long Voyage Home has all the
earmarks of a box office hit. It's a thriller
from every camera angle and you're going
to like it.

No, ma'am, I'm not squawking about the
picture. It's just that after I got an extra
job on it, I found myself in one difficulty
after another.

For example:

I go to work the first day down at Wil-
mington where Director Ford is shooting
some marine sequences and I get myself
dollied up in a dirty sailor's outfit (maybe
I should have said that in reverse) and
no sooner do I step on deck than I find out
that I'm going to [Continued on page 62]

-I'm Glad I Wasn't Married lOO Years Ago'

[Continued from page 29]

| As result of women ''coming of age"
in marriage, there is now a mutuality
of interests undreamed of in 1847, Ty went
en, and the man is the richer for it, as
well as the woman. There is a deep
companionship between a husband and
wife which once would have been believed
impossible.

"Look at the many things husband and
wife can do together which would have
violated good taste and the social pro-
prieties of 1847," he said. "Sports, for
example. In the old days they were con-
sidered a vulgar business, beyond the pale
of any nice woman's thoughts or interest.
Something associated with saloons and
high pockets. A session of lawn tennis or
an hour's ice skating on a frozen pond was
permissible but beyond that, feminine
participation in sports was taboo. It was
all right for the husband to indulge the
interest, but the wife jolly well sat home
and twiddled her thumbs while he was
away. Now she may sit beside him at the
prize fights, wrestling matches, football
games, polo, baseball, track meets, races of
all kinds, hockey and swimming meets. It's
considered a natural and healthy interest
for her to have, and she can yell as loud as
she darned well pleases.

"She may drop in a cocktail bar with
him for a friendly drink with friends. She
may attend political meetings and even
run for office if she chooses. She is
expected to be versed in world affairs and
is privileged to take an active part in
them."

| Gone forever, Ty said, are the days

when a woman's sphere of interest

and influence was limited to the home,

and the man's to his business with the

twain never meeting.

"Nowadays most wives know the ins and
outs of their husband's business, and the
difficult or harassing problems involved
in running them," he said. "In conse-
quence, they have more respect, more
consideration, and more sympathy for
him. They know the cost of each dollar
earned and share with him the desire
to make it go as far as possible. They
are, in effect, silent partners.

"By the same token, most husbands
now know more of their wives' diffi-
culties and problems in running a home
properly and appreciate the important
part it plays in the success of the marriage.
Just as the wife shares responsibility in
financial matters, so the husband shares
responsibility in home matters like train-
ing children. He has a real interest in
the home itself, above and beyond a con-
venient or comfortable place to sleep and
eat."

Ty stopped suddenly and grinned boy-
ishly. "Stop me, if you have heard this
speech before," he said. I said I had
heard variations of it, but never from a
husband like him.

"What do you mean, a husband like
me?" he said, a trifle defensively. I said
I meant a husband in his twenties, with
more than an average share of worldly

goods. Such young men, I had supposed,
were rarely concerned with the socio-
logical aspects of marriage.

"Maybe that used to be true," he an-
swered, "but I think husbands of all ages
and in all situations are waking up to a
lot of things they have taken for granted
for a long time. And about time! The
wonder is that we got away with it as long
as we did."

"You amaze me!" I kidded.

"I amaze myself!" he kidded back. "OF
Granpappy Power in person! Champeen
of the ladies! Can't you just see me
'stumping' the towns and villages? Ty
Power, the Housewife's Friend!"

"With a brass band?" I asked.

"With a brass band, and kissing all the

The camera caught this happy smile
in Hollywood two weeks before the
marriage of Sonja Henie and Dan
Topping. It is Miss Henie's first
marriage, Topping's third. Recently
he was divorced from Arline Judge

babies," he solemnly agreed. "But
seriously, I do think modern marriage has
it all over that of 1847, both from the man
and the woman's point of view."

Undoubtedly there was more obvious
ccurtesy toward women — low bows and
deferential tipping of the hat — in the old
days than exists now, Ty admitted, but
there is more tenderness and real affec-
tion shown now. That's another score for
the present over the past.

"I don't know what caused the rather
cold formality that so often existed
between the two people in a marriage." he

said. "Perhaps it was because any demon-
stration of affection was considered a
weakness, in a man, and not quite 'lady-
like,' in a woman.

"We used to hear a lot about a man
'respecting' his wife, and vice versa. Well
we haven't lost any of that instinctive
respect, but it's not moral turpitude,
either, to show the tenderness and affec-
tion we feel."

| It is laying the cards right on the
table to say that 1940 marriage has
more physical comforts, due to the higher
standard of living, Ty said, and that, in
many cases, that higher standard of living
is due to the wife.

"It's true, so why play ostrich about it?'
he said. "Back in 1847 it was considered a
disgrace to the husband if his wife worked
at some gainful occupation. Once in
a while we still see a hangover of that
attitude when we hear a man huff and
puff about not permitting his wife to work!
However, if women had not pitched in
with a helping hand in those dark days of
the depression which saw many a man's
business swept away overnight, a lot of
marriages which safely weathered the
storm would have been stranded high and
dry on the rocks of actual want. Oddly
enough, too, the men who felt 'disgraced'
by a wife working for a salary thought no-
thing of it if the situation demanded she
drudge for eighteen hours out of every
twenty-four around the house, or even in
the fields. That's what has always seemed
so contradictory to me.

"As for today's higher standard of liv-
ing, the country is not yet out of the
economic woods. Unemployment is still
a major national problem. More often
than not, therefore, it is the added help of
the wife's earnings which make possible
the owning of a home and many of the
comforts and conveniences in it. Genteel
poverty may be all right in theory, but
decent living conditions are a lot better in
practice."

■ Director Henry Hathaway called Ty
back to the scene at that point. The
oxen were hitched, ready to pull the
heavy wagons up the rough ravine where
Ty was to meet them after riding hell-
for-leather over the hill. He jumped to
his feet, brushing bits of leaves from his
buckskin trousers.

"Well, there you have it," he told me.
"That's why I'm glad I wasn't married in
1847. Wives are more interesting today
They have a broader vision and a wider
range of interests. Although any standard
of beauty must be judged in comparison
to the age in which it exists, they are
more beautiful today because they are
allowed to develop their beauty They
are business partners and grand com-
panions. They give as well as take. They
are, in effect, the embodiment of all the
qualities a man formerly had to seek in
many women sort of twenty -seven

wives rolled into one."

Was I supposed to qualify it with the
usual "generally speaking" I asked

"Generally speaking, yes," he said with
a quick smile "And in particular, Anna-
bels."

Si~^%^vS6!'-"i"^#';; 1 '

■L

ATTABOY, PALJ...NO 1

MORE MEALTIME

y/ ^^B

MONKEY BUSINESS!

Si^ Hi

' y/ ^fi^PJ^PJ

f ^hiMMl^fc.

M^fciSi^liBi^'^'^S

1 il8

Babies take to Clapp's!

He's our first baby, so naturally my wife
and I got worried when he didn't seem to
care about some of his vegetables. Some-
times we begged and pleaded, and some-
times we'd play games and try to sneak a
spoonful in while he wasn't looking. One
night I got annoyed and tried to force it
down him. In the scuffle, the whole dish
landed upside down on the floor.

Just that minute in comes our neighbor,
Mrs. Blake, and her little boy. "I don't know
how it will work with you," she said, when
she heard about our troubles, "but I always
had very good luck with Clapp's. Richard
seemed to take to Clapp's, right away, and
just see how well he's grown and thrived.
And when he outgrew Strained, he went on
Clapp's Junior Foods as slick as a whistle."

"It's Clapp's textures that babies like,

as well as flavors. They're not too coarse or
thick, nor so thin a child doesn't learn to eat.
"You see, Clapp's don't make anything
but baby foods. And my land! They've been
making them most 20 years, lots longer than
anyone else, and getting tips from doctors
and mothers all the time— no wonder they
know what will make a hit with babies!"

17 Strained Foods for Young Babies

Soups — Vegetable Soup • Beef Broth • Liver Soup • Un-
strained Baby Soup • Vegetables with Beef • Vegetables
— Asparagus • Spinach • Peas • Beets • Carrots • Green
Beans * Mixed Greens • Fruits — Apricots • Prunes • Apple I 1%*!^% '
Sauce • Pears-and-Peaches • Cereal— Baby Cereal.

12 Junior Foods for Toddlers

Soups — Vegetable Soup • Liver Soup • Combination
Dishes — Vegetables with Beef • Vegetables with Lamb
Vegetables — Carrots • Spinach • Beets • Green Beans
Mixed Greens • Fruits — Apple Sauce • Prunes • Dessert
— Pineapple Rice with Raisins.

Clapp's Baby Foods

OKAYED BY DOCTORS AND BABIES

A Bride
Entertains

Anita Louise is a June Bride who thinks
one way to a man's heart is a clever menu

Bv BETTY CROCKER

| Hollywood's new and
lovely bride, Mrs.
Maurice Adler, nee Anita
Louise, who is ecstatically
happy and very much in
the mind these days for
"Mr. and Mrs. entertains"
ideas, gave us a simply
grand menu for summer
dinners. Anita and her
husband are keeping
house in a small apart-
ment while their home
in Beverly Hills is being completed.

Their dining room, which provides the
setting for our dinner, is no larger and
no more elaborate than many another
young bride's. Anita believes it's wiser in
the first year of marriage to entertain only
small groups rather than to attempt elab-
orate dinners. Our dinner, therefore, is
for four only.

Anita scoured through cook-book after
cook-book (she has a desk full of them)
and recipe indexes and particularly
through the small black notebook of
menus by her very efficient colored maid,
Ella. She finally selected the following
well-balanced dinner for four.

Melon Cocktail

Filet Mignon Thin Mushroom Sauce

Spanish Corn

Crescent Rolls Currant Jelly

Tossed Garden Salad

Peppermint Mousse Salted Nuts

Coffee

In a moment I shall give
you her recipes, but first
let me give you the few
table tips which Anita be-
lieves are so important to
the new lady of the house.
"Keep your centerpiece,
if you use flowers, low,"
Anita said. "Nothing is so
disconcerting as having to
dodge back and forth
around a bouquet in or-
der to see the face of the
person across from you." We agree with
her there!

"Dress your table for the ladies, but
plan your menu for the men," Anita
continued. "Most women nowadays eat
so daintily that there is simply no rhyme
nor reason in trying to cater to them.
So why not let them pick about at
what they like in a dinner designed for
a man?

"Don't serve too many different dishes —
but serve a sufficient proportion."

"Accoutrements to the menu, such as
celery, olives, radishes, pickles, jelly or
jam are nice — but please use discretion.
It's so easy sometimes to have so many
side-dishes floating around the table that
the guests' tastes become overindulged,
and they fail to enjoy any part of your
carefully prepared dinner."

Now for Anita's recipes, which we have
kitchen tested and found to be ex-
cellent:

MELON COCKTAIL

Cut balls from watermelon and canta-
loupe and use an equal number of each
for each serving. Make a simple sugar
syrup of 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water, with
Vi cup crushed mint leaves. Strain and
pour over melon balls. Chill thoroughly,
and when time to serve place in ice cold
cocktail glasses and garnish with sprig of
mint, or moisten the rim of each glass and
dip into chopped mint before filling. This
leaves a line of green adhering to the edge
of the glass.

FILET MIGNON

Season a tenderloin of beef (2 or 3 lbs.) .
If tenderloin was not larded by butcher,
place strips of bacon on top. Roast in very
hot oven, 500° F., for 10 minutes to sear.
Reduce heat to 400° F., hot oven, and roast
25 minutes. It may be cut in thick slices
but long roll should be left together. Serve
with thin Mushroom Sauce.

MUSHROOM SAUCE

1 lb. fresh mushrooms or

1 can mushrooms (8 oz. size)

V2 cup butter

V2 cup all-purpose flour

4 cups milk

Salt and pepper

Wash fresh mushrooms, remove stems
and peel. Caps do not need to be peeled.
Cut stems and caps in pieces. If canned
mushrooms are used, drain well and slice
thin. Cook gently in butter for 20 minutes.
Blend in flour and stir in milk. Cook over
hot water in double boiler until mixture
thickens. Season carefully to taste.

SPANISH CORN

1 medium-sized green pepper
\Vz tbsp. shortening

2 cups cooked corn cut from cob
V2 tsp. salt

Remove seeds from green pepper, mince
the green portion fine, and cook it in the
shortening in a frying pan or skillet for 5
minutes. Add the corn and salt. Cook until
tender and lightly browned — about 7
minutes.

TOSSED GARDEN SALAD

Crisp lettuce leaves

Vz medium-sized cucumber (thinly sliced)

6 radishes (thinly sliced)

1 tbsp. chives (finely cut)

3 ripe tomatoes (cut in wedges)

French Dressing

Prepare, chill and dry the vegetables
Pluck apart crisp, cold, well-dried leaves
of lettuce. Place in salad bowl (previously
rubbed with clove of garlic, if desired)
Add crisp cucumber and radish slices and
chives. Toss gently (with a fork and
spoon) in a bowl, with just enough French
Dressing to make the leaves of lettuce
glisten and to impart an appetizing flavor
Add tomato wedges just before serving
(to prevent juice from spreading)

CRESCENT ROLLS

2 cakes compressed yeast

3/4 cup milk (scalded and cooled to 80°)

Vz cup sugar

V2 cup shortening (part butter for flavor)

% tsp. salt

2 eggs (or 4 egg yolks plus 2 tbsp. water)

4 cups sifted all-purpose flour

Crumble the yeast into a bowl. Add V4
cup of the lukewarm milk (80° F.). (If
room and flour are cooler than 80° F., use
milk a trifle warmer than 80° F. If room
and flour are warmer, as in hot weather,
use milk cooler than 80° F.). Add 1 tbsp.
of the sugar, and stir to dissolve com-
pletely. Cream shortening, add remain-
ing sugar and salt gradually, and cream
thoroughly. Blend well-beaten eggs (or
egg yolks and water) into the yeast mix-
ture. Blend egg-yeast mixture into
creamed mixture. Add half the flour and
the remaining milk and beat well. Beat
in the remaining flour. Beat until the
dough becomes smooth. (This dough is too
soft to knead.)

When dough is well mixed, place it in a
well-greased bowl. Cover with a damp
cloth. Keep dough at 80 to 85° F. until
double in bulk (about IV2 hours) . (Dough
should feel neither warm nor cool to the
touch — just "in-between." Place it out of
draft. If kitchen is cold, put dough in a
closed cupboard with a pan of hot water
beside it.) Remove dough from bowl.
Round up on a lightly floured board. Cover
with a damp cloth, and let stand 15 min-
utes (to loosen up). Divide dough into 2
equal parts. Roll out each half of dough V4
inch thick into a large circular piece (16

FREE

First Aid to Brides and

Beginning Cooks

It's a sad day when the bride discovers
that the cherished recipes she'd col-
lected from her friends and relatives
aren't very helpful after all. They are
vague about amounts, and frequently she
finds herself with enough food for six in-
stead of just enough for herself and her
young husband.

Betty Crocker's Kitchenette Recipes and
Easy-to-Prepare Breakfasts and Dinner
Menus for the Bride will save this young
cook a great deal of grief. These menus
are planned especially so that the new
cook won't have too much "last-minute"
work in the kitchen. They are yours, ab-
solutely without charge, if you will fill
out and mail this coupon.

Betty Crocker

HOLLYWOOD Magazine

1501 Broadway, N. Y. C.

Please send me — without charge — your

Easy-to-Prepare Breakfast and Dinner

Menus for the Bride and Kitchenette

Recipes.

Name

Street

City

State

"I lived in a haunted house . . ."

It was just like seeing a horrible ghost
— everytime I opened that linen closet.
There were my clothes all washed and
ironed — and there was that dingy shadow
of tattle-tale gray. It simply haunted me.
I never dreamed my weak-kneed soap
was to blame until . . .

The lady next door asked me to wash
the Fels-Naptha way. "Try the golden bar
or the golden chips," she told me. "Either
way, -Fels-Naptha Soap brings you richer,
golden soap teamed with gentle dirt-loosen-
ing naptha. And those two busy cleaners
get the grimiest, tattle-tale gray dirt."

Well, I was so frantic I rushed to the
grocer's for that big, golden bar of
Fels-Naptha Soap. And do I thank my
lucky stars! My washes now look like a
million — so sunny-white and sweet-smell-

ing! I'm so proud of my curtains and
clothes and linens, I just love to have folks
come into the house. And, Jim . . .well ... if
you could see how he hugged me last
night, you'd know he's proud oime!

Golden bar or golden chips

FELS-NAPTHA BANISHES
"TATTLE-TALE GRAY"

Wmi

P. S. Use the Fels-Naptha bar for bar-soap jobs. Use Fels-Naptha Soap Chips for box-
soap jobs. The crinkly flakes made of richer, golden soap and naptha. They're huskier
— not puffed up with air like flimsy, sneezy powders. Wonderfully sudsy, too — thanks
to a new added suds-builder! copyright. 1940 f«ib&c<>

HOW DO YOU RATE AS A

What every woman yearns to be! A lovely
female menace! ... an exciting threat to the
most determined bachelor . . . and bad news
to every other girl at the party. Do you
qualify? Don't bother to search your wishful
soul for the answer — here's a little chart
that Tells All !

CHECK UP ON YOUR APPEAL!

(Mark "yes" or "no" to these 8 questions — then learn
your score from the answers on the opposite page.)

Do busy young men hold open the doors in
public buildings for you? &q

When you buy a new hat, does the <d$S»i ^v
salesgirl assure you that it looks &w> AV

"youthful"?

YES

Do you ever have to be introduced
to tbe same man twice?

Do your "blind dates" say you're a knockout
at the beginning of the date, but forget your
name before the evening's out?

Are you versatile? Can you play a hard game of
tennis with Tom in the afternoon and be Dick's
glamorous dancing partner in the evening?

Does forgetting your powder compact on an
important date throw you into a panic?

Do you ever go to bed with stale make-up on?

Do men ever tell you that you remind them of
their favorite flower?

SEE OPPOSITE PAGE FOR

NEWS

——^^—m

inches in diameter) . Cut each circle of
dough into quarters (as you would cut a
pie) Then cut each quarter again into 4
parts (like long narrow pieces of pie) .
Use scissors or a very sharp knife. This
will make 16 triangular pieces in each cir-
cle. Roll up each piece, beginning at the
wide end of the triangle. Holding one end
in each hand, you can flip the long end
around so it winds and rolls quickly. Be
sure the roll is tight. Then pull each roll
out longer by pulling the two ends, and
bring around to form a crescent. Place
rolls about an inch apart on lightly greased
baking pan. Cover with a clean towel.
Let rise until light, but not quite double
in bulk (about % hour). Bake 12 to 15
minutes in a moderately hot oven, 400° F.
After taking rolls from the oven, brush
with soft butter.

PEPPERMINT MOUSSE

V2 lb. peppermint (shiny brittle sticks

or wheels)
1 cup plain cream
1 pint whipping cream (2 cups)

Crush peppermint candy in cloth bag.
Partially dissolve candy in plain cream
over hot water. While there are still some
larger chunks apparent, remove from over
the hot water. Chill. Whip cream until
stiff and fold in syrup. Place in tray of
mechanical refrigerator and freeze 3 to 4
hours, or freeze in equal parts of salt and

Dona Dale takes time out for fun at
the beach between scenes of No Time
for Comedy. That bare midriff is
popular this year 011 western sands

HERE'S YOUR

Winners in Ginger
Rogers* Contest

The readers of Hollywood Magazine are
a brilliant lot. The judges of Ginger
Rogers' Contest discovered that fact, some-
what to their despair, when they settled
down to the task of selecting winners. It
was not an easy task to pick the very best
entries from the stacks and stacks of let-
ters received in the office of Hollywood
Magazine. There was much heavy debat-
ing over the cleverest, and many laughs
over the funniest. But at last peace and
serenity have smoothed the furrowed
brows of the judges. After days of heated
debate, they are agreed on the prize-win-
ners, and they join the editors of Holly-
wood in the wish that there were thou-
sands instead of dozens of awards. Here
are the names of the clever people who
are receiving the pieces of lovely costume
jewelry selected by Ginger Rogers for
prizes:

FIRST PRIZE— Bee Snyder, 3139 No.
Camac St., Philadelphia, Pa.

SECOND PRIZE— Rosalind Levor, Bon-
Air Apts., Avondale, Cincinnati, O.

THIRD PRIZE— Enola Rohrey, 651
Crestview Ave., Akron, O.

FOURTH PRIZES— Roberta Kleiner, 781
Mt. Vernon Ave., Marion, O., Mrs. B. A.
Battles, 2909 No. Military, Oklahoma City,
Okla.

FIFTH PRIZES— Iris Scott, Box 253,
Nocona, Tex. Mrs. Roman D. Gray, 1542
Orizaba Ave., Long Beach, Calif.

SIXTH PRIZES— Mrs. Evelyn Reedy,
1009 Garfield, Topeka, Kans. Daisy Mc-
Cutcheon, 26 Oakland Ave., Dillon, S. C.
Imcgene E. Marks, 134 N. E. Fifth St.,
Miami, Fla.

SEVENTH PRIZES— Mrs. George E.
Thompson, 888 Eighth Ave., W., Eugene,
Ore. Mrs. Laura E. Bjork, 841 Millbury
St., Worcester, Mass. Virginia Brooks,
745 E. Fifth St., Tucson, Ariz. Gertrude
Anders Springer, Rural Route No. 1, Box
68, Cloverdale, Mich.

EIGHTH PRIZES— Mrs. Grace Tousley,
112 So. Fuller Ave., Independence, Mo.
Helen Bassen, 207 W. Seventh St., Au-
burn, Ind. Margaret Metz, 630 Durest
Ave. Ext., Route No. 2, Greenwood, S. C.
Ruth S. Chamberlain, 6041 N. Kenmore
Ave., Chicago, 111. Mrs. Ben Martin, 4731
California St., San Francisco, Calif.

NINTH PRIZES— Hilda Brady, 444 E.
63rd St., Chicago, 111. Lon D. Powell, 989
Michigan Ave., San Jose, Calif. Alice
Santmier, 425 Gamble St., Maryville, Tenn.
Anita Alpert, 37 Kensington St., New
Haven, Conn. Janet E. Thatcher, 505
Montana Ave., S. W., Huron, S. Dak.

TENTH PRIZES— Elsie Lau, 1539-B
Young St., Honolulu, T. H. Mrs. M.
Gimplowitz, 1426 Washington Ave., New
York, N. Y. Flora Howard, 2815 Norman
St., Saginaw, Mich. Gloria Holibaugh,
1138 So. 75th St., West Allis, Wis. Louise
M. Ensworth, 6109 N. E. Seventh Ave.,
Portland, Ore. Mrs. Thelma Thweatt. 829
Fairview St., Shreveport. La.

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON OPPOSITE PAGE

Your Score

Yes? Then you must have that radiant complexion men notice
right away! If you must push your own doors, try daily Pond's
treatments to soften blackheads, make pore openings less notice-
able . . . give a fresh, glowing look!

20 for Yes
0 for No

Beware! That sales talk is used to flatter the not-so-young looking.
Has dry, lined skin stolen your youthful sparkle? Use Pond's Cold
Cream regularly to soften skin, help postpone superficial lines.

10 for No
0 for Yes

We hope not! You should make such an indelible impression at the
first meeting that the poor fellow can't get you out of his head.
And here's a pointer — nothing about a girl makes such a thrilling,
lasting impression as a lovely, fresh Pond's complexion.

10 for No
0 for Yes

If "yes," notice that end-of-date letdown is often the fate of the
poor girl who looks "greasy" as the evening wears on. Warning:
Before make-up, remove all cleansing cream and excess oiliness of
skin with Pond's Tissues. They're softer, stronger, more absorbent!

10 for No
0 for Yes

You're no smarter than you look! While wielding the racket, pro-
tect your face with Pond's Vanishing Cream. Before the dance
this cream will '"de-rough" your skin in a trice!

10 for Yes

0 for No

It shouldn't — and won't if you've used Pond's Vanishing Cream.
Gives skin a soft finish that holds make-up for ages. Hates a shiny
nose worse than you do!

10 for No
0 for Yes

You're a silly girl if you do. That's the ivorst beauty crime you
can commit! Every night: Pat in gobs of Pond's Cold Cream. Mop
up with Pond's Tissues. Finish with Vanishing Cream for over-
night softening.

20 for No
0 for Yes

Only a flawlessly lovely complexion inspires such poetry in the
masculine heart. If you'd like to be some man's ever-burning in-
spiration, bear down hard on your Pond's homework — night and
morning — Monday through Sunday!

10 for Yes

0 for No

1*1

WHAT'S YOUR SCORE?

rou made 80 or more — congratulations! You're a full-fledged
nace to men. If you rated 60 to 80, you have possibilities—

Your Total

get to work and build your rating up. And if your total is under
60— you can't afford to wait another minute! Begin right now to
give your skin the care that will spell SUCCESS. cf^/*^^ *

CLIP THIS COUPON

PONDS

: eovr

POND'S, Dept. 6-CV.I. Clinton, Conn.

Please send me — quickly — so I can begin at once to build
up my "lovely-menace" rating — a Pond's Beauty Kit con-
taining a generous 9-treatment tube of Pond's Cold Cream,
special tubes of Pond's Vanishing Cream and Pond's Lique-
fying Cream (quick-cleansing cream), and 7 shades of Pond's
Face Powder, I enclose 10£ for postage and packing.

Name.

Street-

City.

.State.

How To Win Confidence

[Continued from page 34]

mistake. Sandy and Hugh, it turned out,
aren't exactly sympatico. He admits Sandy
is a sweetheart, one of the cutest, most
lovable kids in the world, but he'll still
take Josephine. Josephine doesn't stab
him in the back. She swims around and
minds her own business.

"I pride myself on being something of a
comedian," he explained. "I have devoted
the greater part of my professional life to
the art and flatter myself I know most of
the tricks of my trade. But things have
come to a pretty pass when I can deliver
a perfectly magnificent line, only to find
myself topped by a cherubic Glub! Glub!
from a tot in swaddling clothes. It's bound
to make a man a little bitter."

In this instance, however, he was willing
to let bygones be bygones if Sandy would
cooperate in the venture. In fact, he added,
it might work out better if Sandy proved
a trifle difficult, for it would prove the
wonders which could be accomplished in
training a baby through his system of
winning confidence.

"A child's soul is a sensitive soul," he
expounded. "We must remember that and
deal gently with it, as we would with a
butterfly wing. The first step in winning
confidence is patience. If a child does not
obey at first, it is not necessarily wilful-
ness or a stubborn determination to thwart
you. The little angel probably does not
understand your wishes. Therefore be
patient with its little mistakes. Gently
repeat your wishes, gently correct the
errors. In the end, sweet success will
reward you."

Unaccountably, Sandy said "Glub, glub,
Hughbert."

Quickly he gave me a now-I'll-show-
you-what-I-mean high sign. Gently fold-
ing Sandy's tiny hand in his, he said softly,
"No, no, Sandy. My name is Hugh and
Herbert, but not the two together that
way."

"Hughbert," said Sandy.

"No, Sandy, dear," he said a shade more
firmly. "That's still wrong, Herbert.
H-E-R-B-E-R-T. Catch on?"

Sandy gave him a cold stare and wrig-
gled from his arms. Then she smiled
sweetly and started across the room to
Mama Henville, who, I might add, had
been watching the proceedings with inter-
est. And a funny little smile around the
corners of her mouth.

"There, you see!" Hugh said in triumph.
I said I hadn't seen anything. "Of course
not," he said, "That's the sensitive soul I
mentioned. But now she knows what's the
right way to pronounce my name and next
time you'll see the difference."

Across the room Sandy took his meas-
ure. "Hughbert!" she said distinctly.

| Hugh chose to ignore that, and began
a further explanation of his method.
"A child's soul is a sensitive soul," he
began.

"You said that once," I reminded him.
This time he gave me the hurt look.
"Remind me, also, to talk to you sometime
about training big babies," he said. "Occa-

sionally their manners are deplorable.
Now as I was saying, my next step involves
games. All babies love games."

"An interesting premise," I admitted.
"What kind of games?"

For once I made the right answer, the
one he had been waiting for. "Confidence
games, of course," he said happily. "What
else? Lovely little pastimes like Tin Box,
Switch, Sucker Bait, Shovin The Queer,
and Poke rackets. Great fun, and quite
often, profitable too."

Now "poke" means purse or wallet in

3^5

George Raft puts on a strong man act
between scenes of They Drive By Night
but don't be too impressed. The tire
is balsa wood and weighs only ten
pounds, though it cost $135. The real
thing would weigh 300 pounds, cost

plainer English, and instinctively Mr.
Rhodes felt of his left hip pocket and I
took a quick gander at the hall table
where I'd left my black suede number. It
wasn't that we didn't trust Hugh, you
understand; after all, a mayor is a mayor,
and as such is above suspicion. But there
was a strange gleam in his eye and just a
little too much enthusiasm in his voice
for comfort. It doesn't hurt to be sure, is

what I always say, even if it was the high
Utah mountains rather than the flat plains
of Missouri where I got my training.

| Hugh didn't know it, but I was once a
police reporter in my pre-Hollywood
days, and I knew what he was talking
about. The Tin Box is an old charity
racket in which a couple of smart bimboes
spot some sucker in a community and spin
him a yarn about holding a lot of money
in a trust fund which is to be distributed
to charity. The confidence men tell him
that, because he is known far and wide
as an honest man, he has been selected to
distribute the money, but to prove his
integrity, he must deposit with them a
similar amount. He puts it up, and you
guess what happens. That's right! He
winds up holding a nice, empty tin box in
which supposedly rested his own and the
charity dough.

The Switch game is played with gullible
bozoes who are not above turning a shady
dollar. A genuine $20 bill is exhibited as
a swell piece of counterfeit money. To
prove what an excellent job of counter-
feiting it is, the victim is invited to have it
inspected by a bank. Since it is genuine,
the bank naturally passes it as okay. Thus
assured, the dope coughs up 300 bucks of
his own good money for $1000 of the al-
leged counterfeit, only to discover his new
bankroll is a package of neatly cut-up
newspaper.

Sucker Bait involves phony stock ex-
change deals and little items like selling
the Brooklyn Bridge toll rights which, un-
believably enough, has been maneuvered
successfully many a time. Shovin the
Queer also has to do with counterfeiting,
sometimes using the Green Linen Machine
dodge for creating paper money. The ma-
chine looks something like a wringer on
an ordinary washing machine but when
a plain piece of paper is slipped between
the rolls, magically enough, a beautiful
$5 bill rolls out when the crank is turned.
On the demonstrator machine the plain
paper rolls up into a hidden canvas
pocket while the planted five-spot rolls
out of a second hidden pocket.

"Of course in Slightly Tempted, which
soon will play your favorite theatre, I go
in for the higher branches of the Confi-
dence Game art," said Hugh.

"Plug," said Sandy.

"I'll thank you to mind your own busi-
ness, young lady," Hugh snapped. "And
speaking of thieves, I'm glad to say you
were not in the picture. Talk about an
iron fist in a velvet glove! You carry a pile
driver in those little pink fingers of
yours!"

| I couldn't see the connection between
the various rackets and winning a
baby's confidence as the essential thing in
baby training.

"Basically the same principle," he said
impatiently. "That's quite obvious, I think.
What is passing off spinach as an epicurean
delight but a variation of the old gold-
brick routine? What is putting a honey
float on a dose of castor oil but Shovin
the Queer? What is an assault on a penny
bank but Pinchin The Poke? Same prin-
ciple, absolutely."

I was pondering this sagacious observa-
tion when Sandy toddled toward me. and
with an angelic smile, slipped something
into my hand. "Woo! Woo!" she said, and
ran back to resume her seat beside Hugh.

"How's yowr confidence now?" I asked.

"Fine, thank you," said Hugh. "Why
do you ask?"

"Must be," I told him, "Sandy's got your
watch!"

| This, too, he chose to ignore and went
on to talk about the importance of
setting a good example in winning a baby's
confidence. In essence it was the same
technique he employed with dear Jose-
phine. A child's soul is an imitative soul
and therefore the behavior of the trainer
must serve as the pattern for the trainee.

"For example," he said, "had I lost my
temper when Mr. Rhodes so rudely re-
ferred to the world's largest goldfish in
captivity as a carp, Sandy might have felt
justified, had she heard him — "

"You're getting involved," Mr. Rhodes
interrupted. "Besides, it IS a carp. A
carp in goldfish scales."

"My dear sir," said Hugh with asperity,
"I have no doubt you know your photog-
raphy business, but when it comes to mat-
ters of pisciculture — "

"Carp!" yelled Mr. Rhodes.

"Goldfish!" screamed Hugh.

Sandy looked at me and shook her tiny
head sadly. The poor dolts, she seemed
to say, as if everyone didn't know that
carp and goldfish belong to the same
cyprinoid family.

Finally, Hugh said, you cannot win a
baby's confidence if reward is unfairly
withheld and punishment is unfairly ad-
ministered.

"Let me illustrate," he offered. "Sandy
has been a good little girl this morning.
She deserves reward for that conduct,
and since she loves chewing gum, her
reward shall be a whole stick for herself.
Come, Sandy dear, here's your gum."

Sandy held out her hand and said a
polite "Ta." Then she took a second look
at her reward and gave Hugh an accusing
glare. "More," she demanded.

Hugh colored guiltily. "My mistake," he
confessed. "Just a little oversight. So
sorry." Surreptitiously he slipped the
other half of the promised stick from his
pocket and handed it over. "Ta," Sandy
said contentedly, but her look plainly said
"You rat!"

Somewhat abashed, Hugh continued.
"Now let's just suppose Sandy had been
a naughty little girl this morning. How
would I handle that? Well, I would say
something about people not caring to be
around naughty little girls and that, as
result, she must stay by herself in the
room to think about it. Then I would walk
out of the room like this."

With a dignified mien, Hugh walked
through the nearest door and carefully
closed it behind him. We all heard the
click of the automatic lock and suddenly
realized Hugh had locked himself in a
small coat closet.

"Go home now?" said Sandy sweetly.

It was an excellent suggestion and we
took it. Verily, out of the mouths of babes
comes infinite wisdom. •

II II

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Gale Page's Reducing Diet

[Continued from page 21]

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physician. Do not try any diet without
talking to your doctor! Wrong diets may
prove exceedingly harmful."

■ It had been a little over three months
since Gale had been given leave of ab-
sence from Warners', ostensibly to do a
radio broadcast. However, Gale knew that
if she reported back to the studio still
overweight, her reception might not be too
cordial.

"I simple can't lose weight," said Gale
to me that day three months ago. "I
thought I had found the perfect diet when
I lost ten pounds on the milk and banana
schedule. A glass of milk and two bananas
three times a day. Then my sister came
down from Seattle for a visit and the
'spreads' mother put on were classics.
During the three weeks she was with us
I not only put back those ten pounds, but
added four more.

"I was working in Four Wives at that
time. Whenever there was a "close-up,"
the cameraman carefully arranged to have
me standing behind a chair or hidden
from the waist down by a grouping of the
Lane sisters. Those "spreads" had wrought
an alarming spread along my hip line.

"Every day Lola Lane, who has more
will power where diet is concerned than
anyone I know, would get me off in a
corner and give me a fight talk on re-
ducing. She made dieting sound so simple.
Each day I would resolve to follow the
menu Lola had worked out for me. But
when I got home at night, hot and tired, I
would pull my chair up to the dinner
table and promptly forget all about my
good resolutions.

"As soon as Four Wives was finished, I
was sent up to a sanatorium in Santa
Barbara with orders to 'get that weight
off.' There in the cafeteria, a tray marked
'Gale Page' awaited me each meal time.
Between meals I was kept busy with a
schedule of massage, walking, horseback
riding, lectures on food and body care.

"I hate being away from my family. I
always get homesick. Mother, Pat, my
cousin, and my small son Fritz, didn't like
the idea of my being up there any better
than I did. It didn't take me long to act
upon their suggestion when they tele-
phoned me to come home for the week-
end.

"When I told mother about the trays and
the food allowed me each meal, she said
there was no reason why ..I couldn't have
the same service at home. It wasn't hard
to persuade me that I could carry out the
same schedule at home as in Santa Bar-
bara. My luggage was sent for. Contented
and happy I relaxed in the shelter of the
family circle."

That was the month when Gale's friends
thought she was out of town. Telephone
calls to her home brought vague answers,
such as "Gale's not in — didn't you know
she went up north — "

This was the season when swimming
pools in Hollywood become warm and in-
viting under the soft rays of the early
summer sun. At Gale's a swim always

called for a "spread" beside the pool. Sc
did a midnight plunge in the moonlight.
Fried chicken and potato salad served on
the terrace afterward couldn't be turned
down.

"Thinking of it now, I really am ashamed
of my lack of will power," said Gale. "I
got the shock of my life three weeks after
my return from Santa Barbara, when I
stepped on the scales and discovered I was
within four pounds of my old weight. 'That
just can't be,' I wailed. 'I eat that horrid
food on my tray up in my room each meal
time. I walk miles. I swim by the hour.' "

"Yes, and steal down to the icebox at
night and over to the 'Drive-in' for a
chocolate soda," said Pat with an infuriat-
ing smile.

"That was almost too much. Pat, who
was having as hard a time losing weight
as I was, spying on me."

■ That was the time Gale told me that
she should never have left radio for
pictures. It was Gale's fine dramatic work
coming over a National Broadcast that
caught the attention of a Warner Brothers'
talent scout that led to her movie con-
tract.

"I love radio work," she said at that
time. "There are no kleig lights or
camera to pick up your bad points. Hours
are easier, too. I sometimes wonder if
it would have been wiser to stick to radio
exclusively."

Looking off into the distance she spoke
soberly and haltingly that day. Not at all
like Gale, whose direct, steady gaze and
ready smile, immediately wins your con-
fidence. But she wasn't fooling me or
herself either. Anyone who has seen Gale
before her make-up mirror, getting ready
to go on the set or in front of the camera,
knows that literally speaking, Gale would
rather act than eat.

"Pat, I found later," explained Gale,
"was feeling quite superior and virtuous
when she called me for cheating on my
diet. The week before she had gotten a
new reducing diet. Secretly she was all
set to embark upon a stream-lining course
that would put me to shame.

"How I discovered her plan is still a
secret. Anyway, I did find out and
promptly 'borrowed' her instructions and
copied them. My doctor said it was all
right for me, so swearing our cook to
secrecy, I had my tray served in my
room with the same food Pat was eating.
The fact that Pat was trying to put some-
thing over on me spurred me to stick to
that diet as nothing else had. For two
weeks Pat and I eyed each other suspi-
ciously as each turned down all 'spreads.'

"Secretly competing with Pat was fun
enough to make me forget the 'spreads'
and other goodies. However, the fact that
her diet was more than generous as far
as quantity was concerned, made it easier
to follow. As this is the diet that actually
did the trick of removing some thirty-
eight pounds from me in ten weeks, I feel
that at last I have hit upon the ideal. re-
ducing menu for me.

"However, allow me to repeat, that any-
one who wishes to follow it, should first
consult a doctor."

Below in her own words is Gale's diet,
as she gave it to me while lunching on
salad in Warner's commissary. Let me
add that she has never looked more at-
tractive or felt better. The studio must
have been pleased with the result of her
diet for as I write this she is working in
two pictures, Knute Rockne-All American
and They Drive By Night.

GALE PAGE'S DIET

No salt in any food.

No liquids, including water, except
when indicated in dietT

One hour before breakfast: The juice of
one lemon in two glasses of water. Fifteen
minutes of setting up exercises, "which I
didn't take," laughs Gale. "I loathe routine
exercise. I took mine out in swimming
and horseback riding."

11 A. M. — 1 glass water; 2 whole oranges
— that means orange eaten whole, with
white skin; 1 pear, with skin.

1 P. M. — 1 large cup of strained vege-
table soup made of carrots, onions, celery,
tomatoes, cabbage, string beans, peas and
summer squash. Vary amount of vege-
tables according to taste — more celery and
less cabbage, for example. Salad — Vz
head of lettuce, 1 tomato with skin, 1 finely
chopped carrot dressed with mineral oil
dressing. 2 whole oranges — "Sometimes I

ordered these cut up and added to the
salad," says Gale. 1 glass water.

3 P. M. — 1 large glass tomato juice; 2
whole oranges; 1 apple with skin; 1 glass
water.

6 P. M. — 1 cup strained vegetable soup;
Salad: Vz head lettuce, 1 tomato with skin,
6 stalks celery, 1 whole grape fruit —
dressed with mineral oil dressing.

Before going to bed — Cup of hot vege-
table broth or 1 whole orange.

"You will notice there is no protein
and no fat in this diet" explained Gale.
"While I missed them, there was so much
to eat and drink I never felt hungry. In
fact, it was hard for me to take everything
on the list, as I was supposed to do.

"At the end of two weeks on this diet I
found I had lost ten pounds and felt fine.
Dieting always has agreed with me. Los-
ing weight peps me up and makes my
mind click. Like a hungry head waiter,"
she laughed.

When I asked what she meant by that
Gale said. "When I did my first profes-
sional work singing with the orchestra at
the Chicago Palmer House, I learned that
head waiters are not permitted to eat un-
til after the dinner hour — along about ten
o'clock at night. Not having eaten, their
appetites are on edge. Consequently they
take a much livelier interest in the prepa-
ration and service of the food, than had
they eaten a big meal before coming to
work.

"Beginning the third week my doctor

agreed with my suggestion that a bit of
protein and starch wouldn't upset the
apple cart. I chose for my treat one of
my favorite midnight snacks. As all snacks
are tabu, it was served at dinner along
with the vegetable soup and salad. It was
my special onion sandwich made as fol-
lows:

Gale Page's Onion Sandwich

"Butter two slices of fresh bread (no
butter if dieting) and place in a hot waffle
iron until nicely brown. Remove and
spread with mayonnaise (no mayonnaise
when dieting) . Lay a slice of snappy
cheese on toasted bread. Cover this with
thinly sliced sweet onions. Salt and pep-
per well." Gale says, "I like to grind whole
black pepper in a little pepper mill I have,
directly on to the onions." Cover with the
other slice of toast and according to Gale
this is food fit for the gods. "Two of these
eaten before going to bed is guaranteed
to cure the worst case of insomnia," says
Gale.

"The third week the onion sandwich was
the only change in the diet. The fourth
week the sandwich was replaced with a
choice of a broiled steak or lamb chop.
I expect to keep pretty much to this diet
as long as I remain in pictures," said Gale.

"I never will get over liking good things
to eat — but, if it is a choice between eating
and acting — I'd rather act!"

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Somebody Ought To Tell Her!

[Continued from page 23]

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inquiring one what time Mr. Stewart got
up, what he had for breakfast and goes
through a cheerful resume of Mr. Stewart's
plans for the day, as far as he knows.

"He tries to be so helpful," Jimmy says.
"But somehow, there is something — about
this telling the lovely lady who is expect-
ing me to dinner that I've gone to the
chiropodist. No harm in it, of course.
But it's sort of unromantic — having your
toes tidied up!"

Maybe a brief history of Stewart's do-
mestic arrangements would be illuminat-
ing. He rented the house, furnished, a
few years ago because he liked it and it
wasn't far from his home studio, M-G-M.
He bought it later. A gregarious soul, the
first thing he thought of after renting the
place was a party — a dinner party in his
own house with his own cook — a gala
housewarming, surrounded with fond
friends and all that stuff. The cook was
installed, the food ordered, the wood laid
in the fireplace. All day, on a frigid "loca-
tion" in the hills, Jimmy thought about his
party. "How's dinner?" he bleated hap-
pily to Daisy as he crossed his new
threshold at dusk.

Daisy was as frigid as the Hollywood
hills had been. "There isn't any dinner.
You didn't have the gas turned on. The
gas company said it has to have your
signature and a deposit — I couldn't reach
you at the studio — There isn't any dinner!"
So poor Jimmy's house was "warmed" at
the Victor Hugo in Beverly Hills. I don't
know whether Olivia was invited to that
party or not but if she was, it should have
given her an idea.

Just to show you how efficiently Jimmy
has planned his life, he took this house,
as I said above, chiefly because it was
near his studio. He overlooked the fact
that it wasn't at all near anything else.
So now — s' help me! — he's bought a plane
which he keeps at a neighboring private
airport, and, when he sets out for a gay
evening, he flies to the Burbank airport,
which isn't so darned close to things,

either, and takes a taxi from there. Inci-
dentally, he's so infatuated with the plane
that he positively pats it, and he's bought
as many gadgets for it as Jackie Cooper
has for his car. "Can't think of anything
she lacks now," he drawls. "Except maybe
a set of antimacassars."

Another transportation difficulty arises
from his driveway. It's a winding drive-
way, picturesque as the dickens, and he's
very proud of it. But he can't drive round
it. Other people negotiate it with no
difficulty at all. But Jimmy swears that
he has never been able to round that curve
without pausing for minutes and minutes
of what he calls "backing and filling." "I
can walk around it," he assures you. "But
I doubt whether I could make it at the
first try on a bicycle. When I see furniture
vans — or Malcolm — or guests who come
for the first time- — whiz round in fine shape
and draw up at the door with a flourish,
I feel downright frustrated!" Many a girl
has turned into a virulent backseat driver
with less cause!

There is another thing which gives
Jimmy's menage a rather eerie aspect to
the casual visitor. Every now and then
you observe that the place seems to be
teeming with young men whom Jimmy
apparently has never seen before. They're
always telephoning. Occasionally one
looks up as Jimmy goes by and says.
"Hello! D'you want to use the phone?
Through in a minute . . ." The ones who
aren't phoning just sit. Mostly on land-
ings.

This is no doubt due to the occasional
presence of John Swope, the eminent
photographer, who lives with Jimmy when
he can be said to live anywhere at all. At
least he has a room there. But since he is
constantly darting over tbe landscape to
photograph strikes or earthquakes or
erupting volcanoes, he makes only rare
appearances at the home base. But his
newspaper and photographer friends drop
in. Aside from phoning and sitting they
seem to cause scarcely a ripple. Some

Movie Masquerade

Can you name the movie title suggested by each of the phrases given below? Remember
that the phrase suggests only the title, not the subject matter or plot of the picture. For
example, the phrase "Many clubs have these to raise money" would suggest the picture
title Raffles although the picture itself is about a gentleman whose name is Raffles,
and doesn't concern the type of raffles used to raise money. Par for the course is three
out of five. Four is very good, five is excellent. Answers will be found on page 51.

1. Big dramatic scene from Little Red Riding Hood.

2. Twice two and a baker's dozen.

3. Invoice from a Reno attorney.

4. Phantom waves at the seashore.

5. According to the old adage, this is fair play.

times they all disappear completely for
weeks — sort of like locusts. If Jimmy
does marry suddenly I hope he'll warn his
bride of these visitations.

While Stewart and Swope meet only
once in two or three weeks, they are very
congenial. They often sit for an hour or
two, cracking nuts and eating them in
front of the fire, neither of them saying a
word. "Men have to be good friends to
enjoy things like that," Jimmy says.

Now perhaps a really tolerant woman
could take such cozy evenings at home in
her stride, but there is one more thing. . . .
"Having Swope around is interesting,"
Jimmy says, "if only because you find out
how you look in' your informal moments.
He has one of those dinky little cameras
and he's always practicing his photography
when he isn't actually working. He takes
what he calls 'sneak shots' and then he
makes enlargements and leaves collections
of them around where I'll find them. I
found an appalling pile of pictures he'd
taken of me while I was asleep at different
times. No one should be asked to look at
pictures of himself taken while he is
asleep! He caught me getting out of the
shower, too . . . and brushing my teeth . . .
and eating a piece of cheese I'd found in
the icebox. Sometimes I think there
really are limits to good nature. . . ."

■ Probably Olivia should be told about

"Aunt Rosie," too. "Aunt Rosie" is a

plump lady, addicted to pink dresses with

ruffles and bows, who ensconces herself

on the front stoop every week or two with
a palm leaf fan and a box lunch and waits
for Jimmy to come home so that she can
inform him for the forty-fifth time that
she is his long-lost relative from Australia,
come to make him a nice long visit. Jimmy
is used to it and simply calls a taxi (all the
drivers know "Aunt Rosie" by now) and
sends the lady on her way. But I think
a new wife ought to be warned.

Then there are the termites. Jimmy
hasn't actually seen any termites but he
belongs to their club. It was like this.
He saw some little holes somewhere, so
he immediately called up a man who was
recommended as a termite-exterminator.
The first thing he was asked was, "Do you
belong to the club?" Well, it seems that
there really is a club. If you join it and
pay a monthly fee a man comes round
regularly and inspects your premises for
subversive insects and takes steps about
them if he finds any. (Jimmy was a leetle
mite worried for fear they'd want him to
wear a club button!) What's more, this
remarkable organization does things about
the health and happiness of your trees and
shrubs. They take it seriously.

So far, they have performed surgery on
several trees, administered euthanasia to
two and injected vitamins into several
others. "They've made the trees flourish
so that they've all put out new branches
and completely obliterated my beautiful
view," Jimmy sighs. "But they talk about
the trees as if they were starving refugees
and I just wouldn't have the heart to de-

prive the things of any of these benefits!"

| There are mice, too, Olivia. A whole
family of little field mice who moved
in last autumn. Jimmy likes them and
doesn't see why they shouldn't be around,
since there is always plenty to eat. Daisy
didn't agree with him and she introduced
a cat, named Elmer, into the household.
But Elmer, too, found plenty to eat and
seemed to have no greater objection to the
mice than the master. So they all get along
nicely and the mice, what with Spring
and all, seem to be greatly on the increase.

And I should think that right now, even
before they are married, a foresighted
fiancee should do something about
Jimmy's habits with the telephone. He
has a private number, of course— only his
is one of the most private numbers in
these exclusive parts. He is always hav-
ing it changed and giving the strictest
orders that no one — no one — is to have it
except himself. Then he loses it. And
can't even reach his own house from the
studio except by telegraph. Why, there
are points in the Arctic which are more
accessible than Jimmy's house for several
days after he changes his phone number!

But withal, it's a jolly house and people
have fun there and after all, if Olivia
should be married to him by the time you
read this — remember that she did spend
her early years in the Orient and was
probably aware of and unabashed by num-
bers of quaint customs while she was still
a lisper.

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[Continued from page 31]

the notice of those never-sleeping Hawk-
shaws attached to publishing houses who
are always on the alert to collect play
royalties. By the time spring came, and
with it the end of our local Renaissance,
some cf my students were prancing
arcund town looking like junior Spencer
Tracys and Bette Davises.

"Came summer and I was at loose ends.
Some good soul offered me a job as
counselor at a boys' camp. I snapped it
up. All through the middle of August I
served as a rustic Lone Ranger, showing
the kids how to tie knots, whittle an
Abraham Lincoln head out of. a block of
oak, open a can of beans, and read a
compass in case they were ever stranded
in the Gobi desert and wanted to hit the
main line again.

"When that stint was over late in
August, I returned to my native Auburn,
Massachusetts for a much-needed rest
before resuming my teaching job. Morn-
ings I would get a lot of reading done.
Afternoons I would lie around in the sun
hoarding violet rays.

"This routine got me down in three
days. My program was wrong. School
teacher or not I needed exercise."

■ Which is where tennis comes in. And
which is where we take over for Mr.
Lynn.

That very morning young Jeffrey Lynn,
Number Four, or something, on the seeded
list at Bates, got cut his paraphernalia
and pondered the question of where .to
play. He was speedily stymied. He
dropped around at the public courts.
They were packed and booked-up solid
for the day. He called around at a pair
cf private courts owned by older citizens
of Auburn, no longer active in tennis.
Maybe he'd do better here. He did — in
a way. The courts were empty. But
batting the white pellets around by your-
self didn't intrigue him. Finally he de-
cided to drop by the swank Auburn
Tennis Club. Maybe one of his friends
would invite him to play.

He was sitting there on a bench whist-
ling a Bates pep song and trying not to
lock too eager when he heard his name
called. It was Margaret Parsons, literary
editor of the V/orcester Telegram-Gazette
and a life-long friend of his.

"I'm stuck for a partner. Do you play?"
the lady fired at him.

"You have you an opponent," Mr. Lynn
said jauntier than Jimminy Cricket.

They batted them around until lunch
time. He disremembers, gallantly enough,
who won the three sets. But what he
dees remember is Miss Parsons' invita-
tion for him to join the club. He snapped
it up in a hurry.

Some weeks of "out-of-the-world
tennis" had gone by the boards, when
Miss Parsons (happily married) suddenly
flipped a question at him. Had he ever
done any acting? He had. What had
he played? His big roles had been Ernest
in Mr. Oscar Wilde's play The Importance
of Being Earnest.

Miss Parsons recalls that day with high
glee.

"This was wonderful news. I inter-
rupted the doubles on the court we were
waiting for. 'Say,' I yelled out, 'do you
know that Jeff not only plays tennis but
likes to act?' There was general re-
joicing.

"The excitement can be explained
easily," Miss Parsons goes on. "This
astonishing tennis club of ours went in
heavily for dramatics during the fall and
winter. Our director, a retired actress
who had been on the stage for thirty
years — used to threaten to come up to
Auburn one summer to see if we ever
did play tennis at all. We used to put
on Broadway successes and then go on
tour.

"Jeff showed up good in try-outs, so
we gave him the lead in our next show,
Her Temporary Husband; a nice part in
which a jaunty young man masquerades
as an old cripple."

The play was, to put it freshly, a colossal
success. As Lynn sat there backstage re-
moving the grease paint, he found him-
self harboring a growing conviction. He
would leave this business of educating
the young to Nicholas Murray Butler. He
would become an actor.

He talked it over with Miss Parsons.
Was he really an actor? Did he have a
chance on Broadway, even one in a
million?

"I don't think you'll stand New York
on its head yet," she said, "but this ex-
perience will come in time."

It was enough for Lynn. He dashed
on heme, wrote the school board at Lisbon
that he wasn't returning and began
shopping around for a wardrobe (one
suit) with which he would take Broad-
way like the Yankees took the 1939
pennant.

| Jeffrey Lynn prodded into drama
by a tennis club, came to Manhattan
locking for a lordly dwelling place worthy
of his new career. He was completely
ignorant of the ways of the big city and
doubly ignorant of prices. He discovered,
to his consternation, that penthouse rents
sound like telephone numbers. Even the
dinky hotels that hug Broadway and
Times Square, he learned, were beyond
his purse. He ended up in a $4.00 a week
rcom with assorted trapeze artists, nautch
dancers and pitch men as fellow lodgers.

It was a dreary business getting started
on Broadway. He hunted up the names
of the great producers in the telephone
book — Brock Pemberton, George Abbott,
Gilbert Miller and the rest — and dropped
around to let them know he was in town
and ready to help out just in case they
needed a leading man for their new shows.
Or even a supporting player — he wasn't
proud! It took him about two days to
find out that all producing minds travel
in the same channels. Meaning that
everyone asked him: "What plays have
you done ON BROADWAY?" He started
to tell them about Brockton and Worcester

but mostly they yawned. Mr. Pemberton
was kind enough to say, "Get a little ex-
perience and drop by again."

When his money ran out, he parted
company with his ambition and be-
stirred himself into getting a job. Per-
haps the theatre would muddle through
without him — for a while, at least.

Through an ad in the Help Wanted
columns he was steered into an employ-
ment agency where a gum-chewing girl
sized him up and said, "Naw. You won't
do."

"What's the job all about? I might
fool you," Lynn said.

"They like big bruisers, these clients
do. It's a barker's job — for the Embassy
Newsreel Theatre. Ever done any
barking?"

"Of course I have. Back at Bates they
used to call me Rin-Tin-Tin Lynn," he
lied.

He set off for the Embassy with the
lackadaisical lady's good wishes and her
"pleased to meetchoo." At the theatre
the manager looked him over and said,
"I'm sorry."

"But I'm a college man," Lynn volleyed.
"I'll bark with a British accent."

The manager roared and said, "You're
hired."

He wore a monstrous overcoat that
must have weighed twenty pounds and
he used to stand in front of the theatre
gazing sadly across the street as he lifted
his pleasant baritone in praise of the
gelatin merchandise the Embassy was ex-
hibiting. There in plain view was Land
of Heart's Desire, Broadway. And here
he was, an actor, snaring passers-by to
come in and see the latest newsreel, "all
about the Italian campaign in Ethiopia."

What tennis can do to you!

It looked pretty hopeless for his art
until he snagged a scholarship at a drama
workshop run by a Lady Bountiful named
Theodora Irvine. At the Irvine School
he played everything from the lead in
Springtime jor Henry to the melancholy
Dane called Hamlet. This he did night-
times, after his barking chores.

About this time an agent caught one of
Lynn's workshop performances, saw a
rainbow in the tea leaves, and decided to
take him on as a client. He worked like
sixty and finally landed him a spot in
summer stock.

The company was the Barter Theatre
down in Virginia.

"Barter is right," Lynn will tell you
today. "The drama-lovers showered us
with vegetables — mostly sweet potatoes
— in exchange for their seats. No one
seemed anxious to Barter a mess of fowl
or a suckling pig or two. It got so that
I yearned for the Manhattan hot dog."

| In the fall he was back in town. A
lad he met down South gave him a
hot tip on an acting job. He followed it
up and roped the part, an insignificant
connection with a something called A
Slight Case of Murder.

But at last he was on Broadway. He
wrote five hundred postal cards telling his
friends about it.

The play was anything but a smash.

Came Christmas and he was selling sport-
ing goods in Macy's. He got to loathe the
sight of a harmless tennis racket. Finally,
he got to brooding and reading Schopen-
hauer.

After the Christmas rush things were
at a sad pass, indeed, when he stumbled
upon a princely job. He became a
wrecker, venting his fury at life by de-
molishing— and getting paid for it — the
Italian Embassy. He was busy disengag-
ing brick from brick when the call came
from his agent. His talents were needed
for a Chinese whimsey called Lady Pre-
cious Stream.

"I played a multitude of parts including
a pillar in a pagoda," he chuckles about
it today. "But this was the play that took
the Indian sign off me."

So it would seem, at least. When Lady
Precious Stream went the way of all flops,
George Abbott got one of his inspirations
and picked him out of a whole posse of
applicants for the role of the prissy cadet
in Brother Rat for the road company
version.

An M-G-M scout put him under option
but Leo the Lion's masters let it lapse.
Then Warners perked up interest. Like-
wise Bette Davis, always the one to give
a nobody a boost. She tried in vain to
get him cast in Jezebel with her in the
identical role Hank Fonda eventually
played. It all ended up with a term con-
tract. And Jeffrey Lynn playing doubles
with Cagney under the California sun.

There is no telling what would have
happened if Errol Flynn hadn't got lost
in the Caribbean somewhere and the
movers and shakers hadn't begun quaking
in their boots, what with Four Daughters
ready for shooting and no Flynn. As life
insurance, the big boys began looking
around for alternatives. They had prac-
tically settled on Dick Foran, when some-
one said, "Why not try the Lynn kid?"
They tested him for the part. Director
Mike Curtiz, dead set on Foran, glimpsed
the rushes just out of politeness. Once
outside the projection room he told Jack
Warner:

"This man Lynn IS Fritz Dietz. He's
got all the part needs, good looks, sensi-
tiveness and the quiet charm that the
script calls for."

"Why don't you use him?" Warner said.

Curtiz did. To the accompaniment of
a tornado of fan letters from movie
patrons demanding to know where had
Lynn been all their lives, and threatening
reprisals if Lynn wasn't unveiled again
soon.

Which is where we came in.

Tennis — it's wonderful.

Movie Masquerade Answers

1. Lone Wolf Meets a Lady

2. Seventeen

3. A Bill of Divorcement

4. Ghost Breakers

5. Turnabout

saip .

The new

champion

waved me aside.

Vjjtf'"'" "A speech? Nothing

^pF^ doing! I'm just a tennis

%y player.". . ."Wait!" I ask.

"You've won the tennis cup, now

you've got to tell them how you did

it. Here — settle yourself with a stick

of Beeman's. The flavor's great and

that tang—"

"'You win!" says the champ. "Gotta
hand it to Beeman's — it's got what it
takes. A fresh taste that's doubly re-
freshing. A dash and tang. A flavor
that's too good to last— yet does." He
laughed. "Sure I'll make a speech!
It'll be good, too — if you'll just keep
that package of Beeman's on tap!"

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45 1,

ACROSS

A star of Susan and God.

Mrs. Artie Shaw.

Principal role in a screenplay.

Lincoln in Illinois.

Baby Dumpling's dog.

Star of Bad Man from Red Butte.

Krazy .

Star of The Westerner.

You've seen him with Chic Johnson.

Girl Friday.

Principal male in a screenplay.
The Saint Takes .

Here I a Stranger.

Henry Fonda's nickname.

Remember Blanche ?

Dr. Brown in Johnny Apollo.
A star of Primrose Path.

of Fu Manchu.

Rosalind Russell's birthplace (abbr.).
Reginald Owen's initials.

Women in (ph).

21 Together.

George O'Brien was born in

a. Date.

Part of a movie camera.
M-G-M feminine star.

Were the Days.

The Across the Bay.

West With the Peppers.

Francisco.

Actor wed to Gladys George.

Way out of a theatre.

Henry Adams in Dr. Kildare's Strange Case.

8.
11.
13.
14.
15.

17.
19.
20.
21.

22.
24.
25.
26.
27.
29.
30.
31.

3o.
34.
36.

37.
39.
40.
41.
43.

DOWN

Worthless villain.

the Deacon.

She was recently co-starred with W. C. Fields.

Mrs. Gibbs in Our Town,

Initials of Owen Davis.

He had lead in Irish Luck-

Dr. Kildare in person.

The reporter in Framed.

Bad .

Paul in The Way of All Flesh.
Speaking voice of 12 Across.
The Mortal Storm is based on one by Phyllis
Bottome.

Star of Gaucho Serenade.
Patsy in Gaucho Serenade.
British character actor.

First name of director and producer of
Turnabout (poss.).

Muggsy in Grandpa Goes to Town.
Slang term for stupid actors.

Four .

Daniels in Torrid Zone.

First name of Miss Hodges (poss.).

Brother and a Baby.

What Chaplin carries in comedies.

Whose role is that opposite Anna Neagle in

Irene?

Feminine lead in Ski Patrol.

Modern theatres are wired for this.

Ann Sheridan was formerly called Clara

Sheridan.

The Wolf Meets a Lady.

Some Like It .

The Villain Still Puisucd .

First name of Miss Arden.
Initials of male lead in Ski Patrol.

(Solution on page 56)

Actor at Armageddon

[Continued from page 19]

pictures in the British capital. In that year
he had fallen easily into the way of Eng-
lish country life. He had taken a lovely old
home in Buckingham, outside London, and
with his wife, Betty, and their two chil-
dren, Elizabeth, 7, and Robert, Jr., 4, had
settled into the life of an English squire.

He had learned to play cricket, gone
shooting in Scotland, danced in Mayfair
and had luncheon on the Member's Ter-
race of the House of Parliament. His
friends were the young Englishmen who
soon were to go out to Flanders and his
interests and his sympathies lay with these
defenders of democratic ideals.

It was natural that Bob, on the scene of
black-outs and rationings, should have felt
a keener, more personal response to the
bugles that were blaring with increasing
significance in Europe, than any of his
Hollywood colleagues.

When Hitler hurled his brutal blitz-
krieg against the Low Countries, Bob was
stirred into action. Sitting with his wife,
listening to the radio, in the library of
their home outside London (they had
brought the children home to California
during the winter) , Bob heard the news
report of the lightning drive on Holland
and Belgium.

"I've got to get into this," Bob told Betty.
"We've all got to help in any way we can.
I'm not a soldier, but I can drive an ambu-
lance. I'm going to offer my services to
the Red Cross."

Betty Montgomery is a wise woman.
She had watched Bob, his sensibilities
stung by the injustices suffered by Holly-
wood extras, once before rise in defense
of an underdog. Then, risking his own
security and status as a star, Bob had led
the battle of the Screen Actors' Guild
against the producers.

Once more, the sorry picture of op-
pressed, bullied people touched his heart.
You just had to pitch in and do your part
toward winning justice, Bob told Betty,
and Betty, understanding the crusader
that lay under Bob's surface mask of
sophistication, agreed that he must go.

Three days later Bob finished his last
English film, Busman's Honeymoon, and
the next day offered his services to the
American Field Service of the Red Cross
in London. Betty made plans to take the
President Roosevelt home to America, and
two days later Bob flew to Paris to report
for duty. He neither saw nor heard from
Betty again until two days before he left
Lisbon on his flight home.

0 It was when the Clipper landed at La
Guardia Field that this reporter
learned direct from Bob the story of his
service in France.

"On arrival in Paris," narrated Bob, "I
was assigned to what was called Section
Two of the American Field Service. There
were about forty of us, all Americans, who
had volunteered to drive ambulances:
business men, a banker, several doctors,
a couple of writers, and men from every
sort of background, every sort of job.

"It took about two days to get outfitted.

and then I was given an ambulance and
assigned to Amiens.

"I reached Amiens just two days be-
fore it fell. The fighting was terrible. The
bombardment kept up for twenty-four
hours a day and the whole countryside
was literally blown to bits. Every morn-
ing and evening the Germans would stage
an air attack.

"At the end of several days we fell back
to Beauvais, and there again we had
bombs for breakfast, the scream of strafing
Stukas for supper. Twice a day, at dawn
and at twilight, the Germans would come
over in an air raid.

"There was no question about it. The
Germans held command of the air. Flights
of from one hundred and fifty to two hun-
dred German planes were common and
in the entire fust ten days that I was at
the front, I didn't see a single Allied
plane."

There was a note of grudging respect
for the German war machine in Mont-
gomery's account of the blood-bath he wit-
nessed in his first week on the Somme.

"This is a 'total war,' all right," con-
tinued Bob. "They (the Nazis) are not
kidding. They're really tough. They're
not playing for marbles. They're playing
for keeps. And their program of utter
destruction was horrible to see.

"As I say, they kept up a continuous
bombardment twenty-four hours a day.
And in the morning and nightly air raids
they had another diabolical device that
served to add to the terror of their on-
slaught. They have sirens hooked on to
the Stuka dive bombers and as they swoop
low over the towns on a raid, these sirens
set up a blood-curdling scream.

"You ought to see what that does to tha
civilians ... to the soldiers, too, for that
matter. A good share of the casualties
we transported were men suffering from
shock.

"It was a living hell at Beauvais. The
German planes were bombing our hos-
pital and our ambulances were being
strafed. While I was still in England I had
read stories about the deliberate machine
gunning of ambulances, but I had thought
they were just samples of the sort of prop-
aganda we had known in the last war.

"When I got to France I found they were
true . . . and only half the truth. The
Nazis not only were including ambulances
in their bombing of the roads, they were
deliberately seeking them out. It got so
bad that we had to ask permission to take
the red crosses off our ambulances. These
crosses made perfect targets and they'd
pick us out and chase us until they got us.
I was lucky."

H "What was your closest escape?"
Montgomery was asked. "Did you
ever have your ambulance blown out from
under you?"

"It wasn't a case of having your ambu-
lance blown out from under you, but
blown from over you," Bob responded.
"For when your ambulance was empty,
and a raid was on, the thing to do was to

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hop out and scramble under the machine.

"The trouble was, you never had any
warning when a strafing would start. For
the tops of the ambulances were so de-
signed that you couldn't see above you,
of course, and the only way you could tell
when enemy airplanes were in the vicin-
ity was to keep watching the civilians on
the road. When the civilians looked up,
and darted for cover, we'd hit a ditch or
get out and get under!"

His closest escape from death, the actor
reported, came the last week, when he was
driving out of Corbeil-Cerf, to v/here the
unit had retired from Beauvais.

"I was driving along a peaceful coun-
try road through a field of wheat," Bob
recounted. "There was nothing on the
road except another American ambulance,
driven by John Thorenson, directly ahead
of me. There were no troops nor trucks
nor machines of any sort. In fact, just two
French civilians were the only other liv-
ing things in sight.

"Suddenly we saw the civilians make
for the ditch, so we stopped our machines
and took cover. Fourteen Nazi bombers
were flying over us at about 1,500 feet.
They dropped two 'eggs' on us and then
circled around, came back and dropped
six more.

"None of the bombs made a direct hit
but Thorenson's ambulance was pushed
over on its side by the terrific explosions.
And what explosions they were! Those
bombs, dropped from 1,500 feet, would
dig a hole about 35 feet wide. One mo-
ment the scene had been a quiet, peaceful
country road, with no sign of the war
around. The next it was like the crater
of an active volcano.

"We left Thorenson's ambulance, the
one that had been up-ended, and pro-
ceeded on in mine."

1 It was a day or two later that Mont-
gomery experienced the adventure
that he said would remain his most vivid
impression of the war ... a sickening
scene he would remember until the day
he died.

"Thorenson and I were driving along in
my ambulance when we picked up a
French commander, who had been
wounded in the leg," began Bob. "We
drove him back to a field hospital at Cor-
beil-Cerf and there, after his wounds had
been dressed, instead of remaining to be
invalided back to a base hospital, the
French officer insisted that we carry him
back with us in the ambulance so that he

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might rejoin his command at the front.

"We were starting up a winding hillside
road when I saw a French ambulance,
with its great Red Cross painted on the
top, turned over at the side of the road.
Thinking it might have been in an acci-
dent, we stopped and approached. There
were six men in the machine, only one, the
driver, was still alive. From him we
learned what had happened.

"A German squadron, flying low, had
come over just as the ambulance started
up the hill. They had dropped two bombs,
which had wrecked the machine and
killed the French captain who had been
sitting beside the driver.

"In the back of the ambulance were four
blesses, four wounded French soldiers.
These men were trying to crawl to safety
when the squadron wheeled back, and
one Nazi plane dropped out of formation
and dove down to skim along just above
the road. As it zoomed above the road,
the plane machine-gunned the ambulance,
killing the four French soldiers and
wounding the driver.

"We had come along only a few min-
utes after it had happened. We took the
wounded driver in our ambulance and re-
turned to the field hospital, but I don't
think he lived."

B Somehow, this brutal strafing of the
French ambulance had made more
of an impression on Bob than the bomb-
ing of his own machine. His eyes, as he
told the story, took on a hard look. Though
he never gave expression to it, you could
tell the actor felt as bitter a hate for the
Germans as any Poilu in the firing line.

There had been other scenes of chaos
and confusion, of terror and misery, Bob
had witnessed, that had given to his ordi-
narily light and cheerful manner the tired,
haggard air of a man who has lived too
close to horror.

More pitiful even than the retreat of a
gallant but defeated army, Montgomery
said, was the plight of the great hordes of
refugees from the Low Countries and
Northern France, an army of human mis-
ery, walking, walking, trudging ever
southward, pathetically pushing along
baby carriages filled with a few precious
personal possessions.

"There were between 5,000,000 and
6.000.000 refugees crowded in the area be-
tween Tours and Bordeaux," estimated
Bob, "where ordinarily only 500,000 or
600,000 dwelt. Refugees who had fled from
Flanders, refugees who had walked all
the way from Paris, and refugees from all
the other towns in the path of the invader.

"People were sleeping in the streets.
There was a shortage of food and water
and danger of epidemics. The need for
relief is going to be immediate and great."

The people of Paris had fled in every
sort of conveyance imaginable. Taxis,
buses, bicycles, horse carts and baby car-
riages crowded ordinary cars for space on
the roads. Gasoline was at a premium,
and when a car ran out of fuel it was
abandoned by the roadside.

"It was as if the entire city of New York
had taken flight and tried to push into
Miami," said Bob.

And ever following them, sometimes

overtaking them and passing them, paus-
ing to shower down a rain of death, came
the Germans.

■ Bob had watched Paris bombed from
the outskirts. He had been in the
thickest of the fighting at Amiens. Tours
had been bombed while he was there and
later he had been in Bordeaux when that
temporary capital was the target for the
terror dealing armies of the air, loosing a
last deluge of destruction, as the French
sued for peace, as if to emphasize the
futility of further resistance.

But through all the havoc and horror,
the French had remained a brave and
courageous people. "They're the bravest,
most gallant bunch I've ever known,"
Montgomery declared eagerly. Informed,
as he landed on the Clipper, that the
French were accepting the armistice
terms, Bob found it hard to believe.

"I'll be very surprised if they don't carry
on, somehow," Bob said. "The govern-
ment may have lost hope, but the men of
the army were still eager to keep up the
fight when I left less than a week ago. I
have never seen anything so magnificent
as the spirit of the French army.

"They were outnumbered, driven back,
weary and worn. They were without
proper equipment, munitions or supplies,
but still their morale was high. Never did
I hear the word 'surrender' from the
French soldier.

"An example of their courage and their
desire to fight on to the last ditch was the

way the men who were only slightly
wounded would plead to be taken back to
the front as soon as they had had their
wounds dressed."

B Bob's own decision to come back to
America was prompted by two things,
he said. First, following the German bomb-
ing of Paris, during which the factories
that turned out the bodies for the ambu-
lances were destroyed, the Field Service
found itself with about three times as
many drivers as there were ambulances.

"We had the chassis but no bodies for
them," reported Bob. "In my unit, there
were forty drivers and only eighteen ma-
chines, and there was no telling when we
could get more.

"It was simply a case of there not being
anything for some of us to do."

Under these circumstances, Red Cross
leaders in France decided that Montgom-
ery could be of more help raising funds
back in America, telling from personal
observation the desperate needs of the ref-
ugees and retreating armies.

A second reason that brought the actor's
service with the ambulance unit to an end
was that he had been granted only ten
weeks' leave of absence from Metro -
Goldwyn-Mayer. Six of them he had
spent with the American Field Service,
four at the front.

Seeing that there was really nothing
more he could do, Bob left France for Lis-
bon, where he boarded the first avail-

able Clipper back to the United States.

When he arrived in New York, he was
unaware, of course, of just what plans the
studio had in mind for him. There had
been talk of his playing opposite Kath-
erine Hepburn in Philadelphia Story. An-
other report was that a story was being
rushed through, built around Bob's own
experiences at the front.

Whatever his next Hollywood assign-
ment, whether Bob returns to the role of
a flip playboy, or the somber type he por-
trayed in Night Must Fall, regardless of
what his screen characterization may be,
Robert Montgomery has proved on the
blood-drenched fields of France that, for
the rest of his life, he has earned the right
to the label of hero.

Victor McLaglen's nineteen-year-old
son, Andy, hit a gambling parlay this
week that should set him for life.

During his midwinter college vacation,
the kid, who is six feet five inches tall,
got himself engaged to a Pasadena debu-
tante, Ann Ralston Page, and simul-
taneously was stricken with an urge to
get himself a job and start a career.

Vic set the hard McLaglen jaw and de-
livered an ultimatum: "Okay, if you can
get a job in six months. If you muff it,
back to school you go."

Andy connected as an actor at Repub-
lic, going immediately into a series
called, appropriately, Superman.

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It is unnecessary to mention the raging
forest fire or the tidal wave — she took,
those in her stride.

"I had the most frightening experience
of my life while making Typhoon," Miss
Lamour told me. "I was standing in a
clearing when the chimpanzee who
worked with me in that certain scene be-
came suddenly enraged. He launched
himself out of a tree where he was sitting
about thirty feet above the ground and
landed on my back like a thunderbolt. The
thud I made as I hit the ground shook the
earth for miles around. He dug his feet
into my waist, doubled up his fists, and
began punching me in the back. He threw
three vertebrae out and pushed one in.
To this day, I can't take a deep breath
without its hurting my heart. Nobody
could do a thing to help me. The trainer
was standing right there with a gun, but
he was afraid to shoot for fear of hitting
me. For a second, I considered squirming
over on my back and trying to punch or
kick the animal off me, but I decided that
I would rather be confined to the hospital
for a year with a broken back than have
my face all torn up and my picture career
ruined. So I just practiced passive resist-
ance until he got bored and ambled off.
The chimp weighed 250 pounds and his
hand spread was eleven inches. Just for
the record, this chimpanzee was not Jiggs.
Jiggs was always an angel. He would fight
for me, and not even my hair-dresser
could get near me when he was on the set."

■ There was a second near-fatal acci-
dent in Typhoon. Miss Lamour was
sitting up in the tree-house waiting for
the cameras to be set up, when 1,500 tons
of water were accidentally let through a
chute that pointed right at her. She was
almost knocked out of the tree house by
the avalanche, but managed to grab a
limb of the tree and pull herself up out
of the torrent.

The studio physician's report on Miss
Lamour is a dilly: major sunburn, bites
by chimpanzees on five different occa-
sions, displaced vertebrae, scratches by
lions, leopards and tigers, three attacks
of influenza, twenty-one common colds,
three sprains, an appendectomy and a
tonsilectomy. Also included is a grim little
item: "treatment for burns caused by
whip." Anthony Quinn lashed her in as
gentlemanly a way as possible with a
blacksnake whip in Road to Singapore,
but a blacksnake is a blacksnake.

And there is more to come. Dorothy
(She-Can-Take-It) Lamour is not through
yet. "In my next picture, Moon over
Burma, the only thing I have to do is kill
a cobra," she said whimsically. "The script
says that I am to take my skirt off and
strangle it. I don't exactly know how I'm
going to meet this problem. Maybe I'm
supposed to rope and hog-tie the snake
and squeeze the life out of it while it's
knotted in my skirt. Sort of like the
wringing-out-clothes technique. Oh, yes,
and I have to ride an elephant. I only hope
the howdah doesn't fall off or the animal

take a pass at me with his trunk. I figure
the only reason I'm alive today is that God
has done an exceptionally good job of
protecting me."

Miss Lamour says that she is not a cou-
rageous person at all, and offers as proof
the fact that she completely emptied a
cocktail bar the other night in two minutes
flat by her screams. She saw a mouse. "I
never was so scared in my life," she said.
Outside of this hair-raising adventure no
accident has befallen her without Para-
mount's cooperation except the time a
canoe sank under her when she was in
Hawaii on a vacation. "Talk about a post-
man on a holiday," she said, "the first
thing I did when I reached the Islands
was to get into my sa — bathing suit and
hire a canoe!"

Although the name of Dorothy Lamour
goes hand-in-hand with any elemental
catastrophe, other stars in Hollywood
have had to suffer for their art. Marlene
Dietrich in Destry Rides Again had her
hair pulled and water thrown on her;
Myrna Loy was rained on to say the least
in When the Rams Came; Alice Faye had
to take pies in her face in Hollywood Cav-
alcade, and Gladys Swarthout received
tcmatoes in hers (this was cut out of the
picture) ; Carole Lombard was spanked
and cast into the river in Nothing Sacred;
Annabella swallowed more sand than ever
got on a hundred picnic lunches in Suez;
Joan Crawford had to walk herself silly
in Strange Cargo; and Irene Dunne was
pushed into a pool for My Favorite Wife.

As a matter of fact, almost every star in
Hollywood has at one time or another
been the object of artistic violence for the
benefit of you, who sit comfortably in an
overstuffed theatre chair, assuring your-
self that the whole thing is faked anyway,
and if it isn't, you certainly could take it.
It isn't faked in many cases and never in
Lamour pictures. If there is any star on
the screen today who deserves the ad-
miration once given to the courageous
Pearl White, it is Dorothy Lamour. At
least, she gets my vote.

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Beauty Full Teens

{Continued from page 17]

bouquet scent (try keeping your extra
cakes in the undie drawer to make them
smell nice, too), and the fact that it is so
good for your skin ... If you're troubled
with acne, that bane of teen age existence,
this soap is a good one for you. Be sure
to use a fresh wash cloth, or better still,
a fresh wad of cotton so that nothing
soiled will touch your skin to infect it.
The soap costs only a few pennies prac-
tically everywhere — -do send for its name.
Do blemishes always seem to crop out
just the night before Junior Prom — or
some highly important affair? Then do
write me for the name of a refreshing,
antiseptic liquid that cleanses and soothes
the skin, and thereby helps hasten the
healing process. Saturate a pad of cotton
with the lotion, and use it several times
a day to cleanse the affected areas, to
loosen the dirt and oil that would other-
wise clog the pores and aggravate the skin
condition. The lotion seems to have some
slight astringent action, and at the same
time helps stimulate the circulation and
retard the appearance of blackheads. It is
greaseless and invisible, and can be used
conveniently anywhere, anytime. Would
you like to know more?

■ Yesterday I attended a party given by
a deservedly famous lipstick manu-
facturer to introduce a new shade. And
one of the most amusing features of the
afternoon was an artist who painted each
guest's portrait — using this new lipstick
as a crayon! I know you can't all have
your pretty pusses sketched as I did, but
you can use the same lipstick shade and
find it every bit as flattering as I do!
It's one of the reddest reds I've seen in
quite a time, a shade that's bound to be
flattering to almost any girl, and with all
the fall blacks and browns, and greens.
And the lipstick itself is so smooth (it has
a special cream base that's so kind to your
lips you can wear it to bed, if you want) .
I wore my lipstick on the hottest day this
summer, and never had any difficulty
with its fuzzing at the edge, or smearing
with coffee ... If you think this red
is too bright or too dark for you, and
prefer a pinker lipstick, you can have
that, too. It's a soft rose that changes to
just the right shade for your particular
coloring when you wear it. It, too, has the
creamy protective base so good for sun-
burned or wind chapped lips (and that's
something to think about now that fall
is on its way) . There's still another red,
slightly on the yellow side, you might like
for evening. Each shade comes in a trial
lipstick at ten cents, and there are both
cream and compact rouges to match. I'll
be glad to tell you more about them, and
to help you select shades of the same
manufacturer's fine-textured powder.

Can you think of anything nicer than
meeting an old friend, and finding it so
smartly dressed that you like it twice as
much? That's what happened to me the
other day when I found one of my favorite
cold creams all decked out in a new pack-
age to celebrate its fiftieth birthday! You'll

like the cream, I'm sure, because it's done
a fine job of cleansing and lubricating
all sorts of skins for a long, long time.
The Victorian femininity of its pretty new
jar, and delicate pastel blue of its cap,
make it nice enough, smart enough for
any dressing table. There are other fine
creams from the same manufacturer, and
lotions, too, each in the same jar, each
with a pastel cap of a different shade —
pink for one, orchid for another. You can
get ten-cent sizes of the cold cream,
you'll be glad to know, and others, larger
of course, from twenty-five cents to $1.50.

| Stop-the-press news this month tells
about a light-hearted new series of
toiletries in some of the gayest packages
you ever did see. Perfume, cologne, talc,
water softener, and all the accessories you
can name for luxuriously scented bathing
— they're all available in this delicately
fresh bouquet fragrance. And not the least
nice thing about these sets is the price —
they retail for as low as fifty cents and
one dollar! I have a dollar one combining
soap, dusting powder and cologne; an-
other at fifty cents contains cologne and
water softener. And you can get single
items — a large bottle of cologne, or a huge
box of dusting powder. The festive
carnival-suggesting packages can be used,
after the toiletries are gone, to hold candy,
sewing, or even other cosmetics, because
no name appears on the outside.

Write me before September 15th,
please, if you would like the names of
any of the products mentioned in this
article. Be sure to enclose a stamped,
self-addressed envelope for my reply,
and address your letter to Ann Vernon,
Beauty Editor, HOLLYWOOD Maga-
zine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

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Private Letters of Jeanette MacDonald

[Continued from -page 25]

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shades of blue at the waistline.

"The sample of the gray tulle is lovely.
When will you need me for a fitting? Will
Wednesday be convenient for you?" She
signs it — "Sincerely, Jeanette" — the signa-
ture which goes on all her letters to co-
workers at the studio, from executive to
wardrobe girl.

The greatest letter-writing chore Jean-
ette MacDonald has is answering the
numerous fan letters which come to her
desk for personal attention and reply.
These are letters segregated from the
thousand she receives each week, by her
secretaries. They include letters from
fan correspondents of long standing; let-
ters which definitely ask advice on a per-
sonal or a career problem; letters which
ask for the intangible gift of courage.

If Jeanette is working, she reads these
letters between scenes, makes memos in
pencil which are the basis of a reply by
her secretary, or later on for her dictated
answer. Frequently, when there is long
leisure between scenes, she dictates on the
set.

On this day, as we sit at Jeanette's desk
— a small battalion of human problems
faces her.

There is the letter from Arva: "Dear
Jeanette," she writes, "I'm twelve years
old. At eleven my voice matured, but now
something's happened. I can't hit those
high notes at all. I'm sort of hoarse or
something. Is my voice gone? Were you
that way? Is there anything I can do?
Anything I can gargle? I'm almost desper-
ate . . . please help me. My voice is my
whole life."

Jeanette makes a note on the back of the
letter. She writes: "Answer this kid and
tell her I lost my voice around the same
age and had to stop singing for a year and
a half. Tell her that frequently happens.
By continuing to sing she may ruin her
voice. She'll just have to be patient and
trusting. Meanwhile she can study French
and Italian."

From Helen: "I'm studying voice seri-
ously, but I'm having teacher trouble. I
have recently changed teachers and find
myself singing flat and straining a great
deal. You sing so easily. What should I
do?"

Jeanette quiets Helen's fears. "All sing-
ers hit occasional snags. Don't try to
rush," she writes.

Enclosed with this reply will be a little
leaflet entitled, "No Royal Road to Song,"
which was written by Jeanette to serve
more or less as a standard reply to aspir-
ing young singers. It answers many of
the usual questions asked her.

These young singers write her not only
regarding training and the problems of a
singer, but frequently ask advice on debut
programs.

Recently a young singer was to have her
first radio audition.

"What should I sing — an operatic aria?
It is for a children's program."

"No." Jeanette had replied, "sing some-
thing simple — perhaps an American folk-

song. A Stephen Collins Foster ballad
would be advisable."

Today there is a letter from the young
aspirant, telling Jeanette of success and
a radio contract.

Jeanette has close contact with the fans
who have written her for years. In their
letters they tell her much of their intimate
lives, advise her of important events and
the important things which have happened
to them.

This morning there is such a note from
Ethel. "I had hoped to have a daughter
to name for the two women I admire most
— my mother and you," she writes. "But
it was a boy, so I named him for the
person you love best — Gene. He's a hand-
some baby, perfect in every way. He
weighed eight pounds, one ounce at birth.
He has curly blond hair and blue eyes."

Jeanette sends thanks and congratula-
tions— and in a day or so a small gift will
go to Gene's namesake. (Jeanette makes
a note on her pad.)

From England Clarice writes: "There
is a war now, but I saw one of your
pictures last night. You don't know what
it did for me. It was like a tonic — a visit
to another, happier world ... a letter from
you would mean so much. Would you
write?"

From an ambulance driver in England —
a girl who has written to Miss MacDonald
for years, there is also a letter. "I'm so
glad you were pleased with the little pres-
ent. I have been on duty for forty- eight
hours without a break . . . we are all tense,
but calm and ready for any emergency
... if anything happens to me, I want you
to know how much all your kindnesses
have meant to me." There is no return
address. Jeanette's lips are held steady
by effort as she finishes reading.

From a very old lady, eighty-four, there
is a brief letter. "Thank you for the kind
cf pictures you make. There is tenderness
in all the love scenes you play. I think that
you make young people, no matter how
modern and sophisticated they may be,
feel that true and sincere love is the finest
thing in life after all, and you help old
people re-live their lost youth once
again."

"Letters such as these," Jeanette com-
ments, "make an actress feel her responsi-
bility." She thanks her correspondent for
her gratifying letter.

From fourteen-year-old Marie there is
a letter:

"My father wrote you while I was in the
hospital and you sent me a picture of
yourself and wrote on it, 'Get well in a
hurry', and signed your name. I was in an
awful accident and came out of it with
only one arm. I've been singing since I
was a baby and ever since I can remember
I went to see your pictures and tried to sing
like you do. Do you think I can be happy
without an arm?"

"A lot of famous people have been phy-
sically handicapped," Jeanette writes.
(Aside to her secretary: "Find something
about the life of Helen Keller and send
it to Marie.")

Among Jeanette's regular correspond-
ents is a bed-ridden old lady. To Jeanette
come pages of the philosophy she has
acquired in the many years of enforced
inactivity. She is a gentle and a patient
person. While she has only seen one of
Jeanette's pictures, her music library con-
tains all the records the star has made.

Today's letter says: "I always feel so
grand when I receive a letter from you.
I hold it and think about it before opening
it. If I could only hear you speak — just
once."

(Jeanette to her secretary: "Let's tele-
phone her long-distance next Sunday
afternoon.")

A young girl writes: "Since 1931 you
have been my firm friend . . . You were
responsible for my scholastic triumphs,
and often the thought of you saved me
from slacking. I always did my very best
for you. Every time I made a grade, I felt
you were proud of me, and when I failed
you did your best to sympathize. It was
your inspiration which has prompted me
to success ... I have just won a musical
scholarship . . ."

"Your success has made me very happy,"
Jeanette replies. "And I'm humbly grate-
ful for the part you feel I've played in it."

A mother wrote some months ago: "My
little girl is a cripple . . . completely help-
less . . . she has been talking about your
scheduled concert in our city, and is heart-
broken because she can't go. But she tires
so quickly ... I'd give anything in the
world if we could bring her to your con-
cert, but the doctor forbids it. I know this
is presumptious . . . but would you say
'hello' to her, if we brought her to see you
at your hotel? . . . her pleasures are so
limited."

Jeanette had invited the child for tea.
There was more than tea and Jeanette's
presence waiting for Rhona when she had
arrived — telegrams from Hollywood cele-
brities.

And the letter now on Jeanette's desk is
the aftermath. "Rhona started mending
from that day on . . . we pray for you every
night."

From the time Gertrude A.'s children
were in pinafores, she has written to
Jeanette MacDonald her hopes and her
ambitions for her two small daughters.
Later, when neither one actively displayed
the musical talent which the mother fondly
suspected at first, she brought her disap-
pointment to the singing star. "I had
hoped," she wrote, "that they would real-
ize the ambitions I, myself, always had, but
wasn't able to do anything about ... I
feel so let down."

"Isn't there a youngster in your com-
munity with real talent who needs a little
help? Why don't you interest yourself in
the welfare of such a child? ... It will give
you immeasurable personal satisfaction
. . ." Jeanette had written.

Gertrude A. did find a worthy, am-
bitious, talented girl and transferred her
interest in music to her. She arranged for
scholarships. She encouraged and helped
financially. Through all this process of
selection and progress, Gertrude A. re-
ported regularly to Jeanette. When the
girl won her first scholarship. When she

had her first audition. When she made
her concert debut.

"Marcia has a radio contract," Ger-
trude A.'s letter tells Jeanette this morn-
ing. "She owes it all to you."

"Not to me," Jeanette replies. "But to
you who stood at her side all these years."

Jeanette frequently finds herself in the
role of a guide to young girls.

This letter from Celeste, is an example:
"Boys are attracted to me, but I cannot
keep them as friends . . . When they find
I have high ideals and won't pet, they drop
me. I met a boy ... I liked him . . . but he
doesn't call me up any more . . . his griev-
ance was that Mama made him bring me
home at twelve. I've lost faith in men . . .
It seems as if the modern generation has
a scheme which I cannot fit."

Jeanette replies: "Don't lose faith. The
things your parents have taught you are
wise. As you get older you'll know it to
be true. You'll find happiness . . . but be
willing to wait for it."

Give me courage . . . give me hope . . .
give me strength . . . give me faith . . . this
is a never-ending refrain in the letters
from the weak and the meek and the sick.

There is a little girl in a hospital near
New York City. A picture of Jeanette
MacDonald is on her bedside table.
Periodically a new one arrives — one in the
costume of her latest picture.

Months ago her guardian had written
to Jeanette: "You are one person who has
been the inspiration for all her courage . . .
You have created in her the desire to walk
and to dance, the one thing which has
been declared impossible for her by all
the doctors who ever examined her. But
the miracle is happening . . . she is sitting
up alone . . . she says she is going to walk
soon . . . She keeps a scrap book about . . .
she has read over and over again the story
about the time when you were advised to
forget your desire to sing, how you refused
to give up. This has inspired her to ac-
complish the seemingly impossible."

And another letter about this child:
"She is a lonely little soul . . . She has been
cast aside by her parents because of her
handicap, and you have helped fill that
breach . . . When other children talk about
home and parents she says she thinks of
you and pretends that she has some one
also who really cares for her . . . Often
when I come home, I find she has her
many scrap books about you spread out
on her bed, your pictures and letters
standing up around her, and she is living
in a little make-believe world of her
own . . ."

Letters from Jeanette arrive for this
little girl with regularity. When steel
braces are to be fitted, when painful treat-
ments are in progress, the letters are timed
to arrive at the psychological moment.
"I'll be expecting to see you when I come
East . . . You'll surely be walking by then,"
the letters will repeat.

For almost three years now, Jeanette has
been writing this invalid. For three years
she has been pouring courage into a child.

Today Jeanette writes an answer to a

report of definite progress: "Hooray — for

those first steps. I knew you could do it."

No wonder Jeanette MacDonald takes

a day at her desk seriously!

MAUREEN O'HARA m"DANCE,GIRLS,DANCr

AN RKO-RADIO PICTURE

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ao-ntE

SAFER beeni
easier to clea

tember 1, 1939, world-shaking war was
two days away. War is not an impersonal
thing, statistics — so many refugees, so
many wounded, so many dead. It is a per-
sonal thing, that takes each life and does
things to it. The shadow of war, the feel
of it coming, does things.

Madeleine, about to sail for the United
States, felt her whole spiritual world in a
turmoil. She would have to leave her
mother, who said, "You go where your job
is. I'll stay where mine is." Madeleine felt
danger to the civilization in which she be-
lieved— to all she loved. More than na-
tions were at stake — a whole way of life
was threatened. So she did what she, per-
sonally, could do before she left for the
safety of this country.

She went to the poorest part of Paris.
With the counsel of some nuns, who knew
the needs there, she selected two hundred
children. "Nearly half of them were or-
phans. The other half stood an excellent
chance of becoming orphans." These help-
less youngsters she installed in her home
at Saudreville, twenty-six miles south-
west of Paris. There were cots in the attic
and cots in the dining room, and Saudre-
ville's green acres and formal gardens
were turned into a playground. In time
of war, or any misery, helpless children
tug most at the heart. Two hundred!

Those emotional last days of August had
capped a summer of mental strain, self-
examination. On June 24 Madeleine had
divorced Captain Philip Astley. She had
told him when she married him, at seven-
teen, that she had no right to; that she
was set on a career, on "doing something
in the world." But he had swept the ob-
jection aside; he would fix all that. Four
years at the top of Europe's social whirl
failed to change Madeleine. Career won.
She never had anything but respect and
liking for Captain Astley. The time came
when she felt, in fairness, that she ought
to free him. But don't think divorce was
a light matter to this daughter of a stern,
schoolteacher father and a sensitive,
deeply religious mother. Religion is real
with Madeleine, too. Loyalty is the key-
note of her nature. Doing her part means
merit to her. The actuality of that divorce
shook her.

Divorce — its flat aftertaste. The shadow
of war, close as a nightmare, climbing into
bed with you. The faces of children, tear-
stained, then happy. Necessity for leaving
beloved France, because you can't feed
and clothe two hundred children without
earning a great deal of money — these
things all were in Madeleine's mind the
afternoon of September 1, 1939, when a
friend telephoned and said, "Come to my
house for a little while tonight. I'm having
a few friends in. No one wants to feel gay
— with what's coming. But we might as
well act civilized. Some of the men who
are going . . ."

■ Madeleine went — and Captain X
walked in.
Six feet three inches tall. Blue eyes and
brown hair. Lean and competent in his

blue uniform. Face both sensitive and
strong. A little of Ronald Colman and a
trifle of Gary Cooper. A good mixture, this
man — French father and Virginia mother.

The uniform was new. As Madeleine
proudly puts it, "His profession had not
been death." He had worked in a stock-
broker's office (Madeleine never bothered
to be curious whether he was rich or
poor!), had seen what was coming, and
had entered civil aviation. "He thought his
country might need him."

That need had come. On the tall young
captain's face shone the firm resolution,
shadowed by inner shock, that mark a
civilian, hating war, who has changed the
stream of his life to meet duty.

There must be dash and fire in this man.
Madeleine saw the strength and character
in him; something in her own need re-
sponded to that, instantaneously. But
what so suddenly changed her? All her
life, every act and decision had been con-
trolled by her head. This was different.

Dash and fire! What a courtship! Next
morning they rode together to the famous
Bois, the park rendezvous of all Paris
sweethearts, rich or poor. They lunched at
a sidewalk cafe. In the afternoon he was
busy, preparing for duty, but that night,
as lovers just before war have done
through ages, they danced till nearly
dawn. He didn't omit a sentence of what
a man should say.

Madeleine answered, "I have no right
to let you pledge yourself. This all might
be due to the imminence of war. We must
wait." But in her heart she knew — this
time — she had the right. So she added, "In
a few months I shall come back. We shall
see. It's a promise."

The morning after that, they had only
a few moments together — at Madeleine's
boat-train. Captain X's superiors ordered
other business for him than love-making.

Madeleine sailed. The war broke.

(What a thing to happen! All your life
you use your head. You control your emo-
tions. And then you find poetry, music,
fire — conviction that you can be emo-
tionally complete. And between you and
the loved one widens war, a black gulf.)

■ Back in America, Madeleine went
through the gestures of a screen star's
life, but she confesses that she felt as if
she were moving through a long, slow
dream. She was numb. Captain X, he
wrote, had been placed in command of a
bomber. At night Madeleine, trying to
sleep, could hear, in fancy, the chatter of
machine guns, the whine-roar of diving
Stukas. She could vision antiaircraft ar-
tillery, reaching long fingers into the sky
— steel- jacketed bullets for claws.

France was on her heart, too, and that
wray of life that wes at stake. And her
mother, and the children at Saudreville.

Somehow she got through the filming
of My Son, My Son. She got through
Safari. She kept her own counsel. Many
who didn't — couldn't — know, shook their
heads over her. Madeleine scarcely re-

members what she said and did during
those bleak five months.

Then in February she was free to go to
France for a short visit between films. On
that trip, Madeleine was in Paris five days.
Captain X secured leave twice. Once for
two hours. Once for only one hour.
France's aviators were busy.

But the two had met again. He was still
alive. She was there. They hadn't changed.
But the only pledge she gave was, "I'll
come back in the spring. Regardless of
how the war goes, I'll come back."

■ In California, Madeleine, though liv-
ing in extreme quiet — firmly turning
down publicity dates and Hollywood par-
ties— showed much change from her
autumn self. She dieted — effectively. In
Northwest Mounted Police she turned in
the best acting of her career. Cecil B.
DeMille says, "Technicolor brought out
the marvelous warmth that the black and
white camera didn't always catch."

Don't give Technicolor all the credit,
C. B.!

I'll not forget a visit I paid to Madeleine
early in May. She had a day off, during
the latter part of Northwest Mounted
Police, and I was invited for lunch. It was
in a tiny house, set in a flare of flowers,
on a street with no name sign, and no
other dwelling in sight. Just the green
mesas below Palos Verdes, and the blue
Pacific. A strange retreat for a woman so
sought after — if you didn't know the
reason. (Madeleine told me with consid-
erable satisfaction, she paid sixty dollars
a month rent for that house. Caring for
two hundred children does, use up your
funds.)

She told me a little that day about Cap-
tain X. "How can I let the publicity men
use his name?" she asked. "We're not
really engaged. My divorce won't be final
till June 24. And it would sound like a
Hollywood romance — tying my name to a
hero's, to get in the paper. I couldn't. I'm
superstitious, too. Suppose — ■ something
happened to him. How would I feel then
if I had broadcast his name. Do you blame
me?" I didn't.

Two weeks later, after fitting and testing
in four days seventeen costumes for Vir-
ginia (so she'd be ready to shoot immedi-
ately on return) Madeleine — against the
frantic urging of studio and friends — left
for New York, intending to take the
Clipper at once.

Life wasn't to be so simple. Winthrop
W. Aldrich, Chairman of the Board of the
Chase National Bank, and other business
and social leaders, came to her and said,
"You owe it to France to stay and help us
interest people in the refugees and the
stricken." That appeal nearly tore Made-
leine's heart in two, but she said, "I'll stay
— awhile." Without publicity, with com-
plete selflessness, going where and doing
what she was told, like a soldier, Made-
leine put in three weeks of as hard work
as I've ever known anyone to do.

That work was tremendously effective.

Seeing Madeleine every day I began to
note signs under the radiance, the charm,
the absorption in relief that she was pre-
senting to the world as her whole pre-
occupation. "What is it?" I finally asked.

"You're going to crack up if you go on
like this."

Madeleine answered, in that soft voice
and the simple, direct way she has, "I had
a letter from my young man, written the
night the German push toward Paris
began. I haven't heard from him since.
There's no reply to my cables."

Twenty-one days without a word. From
the Captain of a French bomber, during
the greatest battle in the history of the
world. And people saying, all day, "You're
so charming. You have such fine control in
these trying times. You're so lovely."

I suggested, "Why don't you talk about
him a little? It'll do you good."

She smiled — she can always do that.
"I'll let him talk for himself. I'll read you
what he said — about his work."

She took from a handbag a letter so
crumpled that my face must have showed
my thought. Madeleine smiled again. "It
never leaves me a minute."

She read: "It's midnight and I'm deadly
tired after a day of feverish activity that
only the Army can give you, and tomorrow
morning at six o'clock I'm flying to the
front. I know that there's the possibility
of these orders being changed — as to des-
tination— for we are hardly yet experi-
enced enough to be honored in this way."

A gallant and a modest soldier! It was
here that Madeleine added, "His profes-
sion had not been death." She glanced
down the letter, read on:

"I am so tired and tomorrow four men
will rely on me to steer them straight. I
must try to sleep. I may hold those lives
in my hands."

She was into the next sentence before
she quite realized its purport: "It may be
that the fortune of war will prevent me
from ever saying these things to you in
person, so I say them now . . ." She
stopped.

The rest of that letter remained, of
course, sacred to her who received it. But
everyone who has been a lover can guess —
how heart spoke to heart.

And not another word, since that letter
three weeks old! War, the black gulf.

Madeleine said, "I'm going to him. No

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one has the right to ask me to break that
promise. I'm going."

She talked of other plans. She would put
tents on the Saudreville acres — adopt an-
other two hundred children, throw herself
into relief work abroad, as she had been
doing in New York.

Before she left, she received a blessed
cable. Captain X was alive!

H Hitler clanked and roared thirty-five
miles from Paris the day the Atlantic
Clipper took off. Madeleine was very gay
and charming at the airport, chatting with
Noel Coward, who was flying to report for
duty, and with other friends. No one could
have guessed she was in terror. Not
of Hitler — she had an English-French-
woman's contempt for that person — but
of the air trip! She'd had only two flights
before, and flying the Atlantic — though

the Clippers now run like sedate ferry-
boats— is a little different from a land hop
■ — if you're scared.

It doesn't seem possible that Madeleine
beat Hitler to Paris. As I write, the most
recent word is from Biarritz — no longer
a fashionable resort, but a churning cen-
ter of refugees.

But everyone in the world who has ever
been in love will hope that Captain X has
weathered safely the hazards of war and
the slow, perilous armistice. Hope that he
will have been able to get from Paris, or
Tours, or from Northern Africa, where the
French air fleet seems now to be, and join
Madeleine somewhere.

If that has come to pass, I think you'll
have read in the newspapers by now that
a great love story has had a happy be-
ginning.

The Long Voyage Home

[Continued from page 37]

get mixed up in a storm. Well, having
been in storms before on land and on sea,
my noggin is minus any signs of worry.
I say to myself, I need a bath anyways, so
let the wild waves get wilder for all I
care. John Wayne, Thomas Mitchell, John
Qualen, David Hughes, Joe Sawyer and
some more of the principals are standing
on deck and likewise looking as though
they didn't give a hoot for all the water
in the Pacific ocean, and I say to myself
that if they can look so nonchalant why so
can I and I do.

But not for long. Lady, I'm here to tell
you. Not for long!

Director Ford says something about "All
right, boys, we're turnin' 'em," and no
sooner had he said it than it happens.
Our old tramp steamer, the Glencairn, be-
gins to teeter and toss like it has its hold
full of African ants and I find myself sit-
ting down on the seat of my sailor suit
and sliding back and forth along the deck
in perfect harmony with the teetering and
tossing and gathering splinters in the
southern exposure of my britches like I
am set on establishing a record of some
sort. I let loose a yell with every puncture
but nobody pays any attention. Every guy
on deck is busier than a one-armed paper
hanger with the seven-year itch. All of
'em are hanging on for dear life. Every
man for himself it is. But even that doesn't
do much good. Not when the wild waves
come poking over the side of the ship.
Lady, I'm here to tell you that I've seen
some wild waves in my time, but none
half as wild as these water babies. Before
I know it I have more salt water inside
me than a pickle vat and I find myself
being swept from starboard to larboard,
fore to aft, not to mention hither to yon,
and why I wasn't swept overboard is more
than I know to this day. Finally I got my
tootsies wrapped monkey-like around
some shrouds, and there I stick five feet
above deck, praying that I live to see an-
other day.

My old friend, John Wayne, goes sweep-
ing past, spouting water like a sperm
whale and yelling something like "Pete's

Sakes, get me outta here!" Another whop-
per of a wave picks him up and shoots
him back from his starting point, which
is just two points sou'east by nor'west
from the companionway. No more does he
get settled than away he goes again lick-
ety-split. This time I think he's a goner
for sure because this wave looks moun-
tain-high and big and swift enough to
carry the poor guy clear out into the
middle of the Pacific. I begin to say to
myself, "Well, he was a good egg while
he lasted," and then, Wham! Bam! and
Socko as the funnies have it!

This old wave put on an extra spurt of
speed and I see Long John get slammed
against what I learn later is a gadget
called the foc's'le wench. Pardon me, I
mean winch! This wench — I mean winch
— is made of iron and it sure made an im-
pression on Wayne. They picked him up
unconscious when filming stopped, and
they carted him off to the hospital, where
the medicos put him under the X-ray
machine. When they took a gander at the
pictures they found that the victim had
suffered three fractured ribs, one sprained
wrist, six cuts on the face and scalp and
a twisted ankle! Jack Pennick, who had
also got himself mixed up in the watery
melee, was picked up unconscious, too,
and his X-ray pictures disclosed one
busted rib. Joe Sawyer and Thomas
Mitchell would have been rendered hors
de combat except that Wayne and Pennick
managed to shunt them clear of the winch
a split second before they, themselves,
cracked into it. The medicos said that
only the exceptional physical fitness of the
two six-footers, plus their ability to pro-
tect themselves in an emergency like the
one I've described, prevented possible in-
ternal injuries. This Pennick chap, by the
way, won the coveted Congressional
Medal for valor in the first World War.

As for me, I didn't go to the hospital.
All I know is I was so scared that it took
three guys to pry my fingers loose from
the ropes and I wouldn't have let loose
then only some sailor gave me a barefoot
hotfoot!

Funny thing about being frightened. I
didn't feel those splinters in the seat of
my pants until a full hour later! And I
wouldn't have then, most likely, but I hap-
pened to sit myself down on a hard bench
and so shoved my lumberyard another
quarter of an inch deeper into my sitting
room! It took six sailors with six pliers
sixty minutes to do all necessary extrac-
tions with me yelling bloody murder every
second! Life on the ocean wave may be
okie dokie for some folks, but not for me.
I'll do my extra-ing on terra firma from
now on. John Qualen was the only one
who offered me any sympathy during my
travail. John played the flute once upon
a time in a concert orchestra back East,
and he plays it in The Long Voyage Home,
and he played it for me and very well, too,
even though the music he blew out of the
wooden stick was definitely on the dirge
side. But I got even with him on Father's
Day and added a dozen telegrams to the
300 he received from ribbing friends. John,
you may remember, once impersonated
Papa Dionne, father of the famous quin-
tuplets, on the screen, and we all remem-
bered him with messages. In real life John
is the proud father of three lovely daugh-
ters. Bet you didn't know that, smart as
you are about Hollywood.

I'll also bet you never knew — till now,
that Thomas Mitchell is one of the most
thorough students of the theatre in pic-
tures. In addition to being a stellar actor,
Mitchell is also a playwright, and has been

stage director and producer of several
successful Broadway shows. Not only all
this, mind you, but he's rapidly becoming
one of Hollywood's leading art connois-
seurs. Just recently he added to his art
collection an original Rembrandt and two
Picasso paintings.
Well, to get on.

■ The filming, by the time Wayne got
out of the hospital, had got around to
the point where an enemy plane is swoop-
ing low over the good ship S. S. Glencairn
(the bloomin' old tub is loaded to the
gun'les with dynamite) and the director
is all ready to shoot a sequence showing
Wayne sound asleep on a hatch while the
enemy plane sprays the deck with ma-
chine gun bullets. For some vague reason
or other, Director Ford said he had to have
a man fire actual bullets into the canvas-
covered hatch-lid, all of which was no-
never-mind with me until he came over
and picked me out to sort of lay on the
hatch, "just for size," as he so quaintly
put it.

Well, you know me. Easy pickings for a
Hollywood gag. So I hops up and I
stretches myself comfortable on this hatch
and pretend I'm sound asleep. Before I
close my eyes, I take a peek and see a guy
by the name of Sam Zavitz, a professional
marksman and a mighty good one, and I
also see him lugging a machine gun and I
have a strange hunch that this Zavitz
means business because he isn't smiling

Mr. and Mrs. Bill Powell snapped at the Hollywood Baseball Park during a game

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at all, but is sort of grim and determined
looking. But, I says to myself, he's putting
on that stern look to make the gag look
good, and I close my eyes and pretty soon
rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat goes the per-
suader. It seems to me I can hear a slight
tearing of hatch-cloth at each "tat." I re-
main stiffer than a poker that's been out in
sub-zero weather for a month and after
Sam has cut loose with his 200 bullets I
gradually open my eyes, and guess what
I see! Neat, little, round bullet holes,
scores and scores of 'em, not less than ten
inches from my body. And from head to
foot! Real bullets they were, Sam said
then. What I said to that isn't fit to print!
I said I was through for the day and I got
up and got th' hell outta there.

John LeRoy Johnston, the Wanger pub-
licity demon, told me that night over the
phone that John Wayne was more fright-
ened than I had been but that he went
through with the sequence and that he, too,
got up wobble-legged and said he was
through for the day. Don't ever let me
hear you say that it's a cinch to help make
a movie! And another thing. Never again
will I lay me down on a hatch cover while
some sharpshooter measures me for size
with a machine gun. Not while I'm of a
sane mind.

pi With this sequence out of the way and
okayed for the can, Director Ford goes
back to the beginning of the story to do
some shooting. According to the yarn, our
British tramp steamer, the S. S. Glencairn,
is deep in the tropical seas. It puts in at a
Caribbean port and the skipper finds that
there is no cargo available. The steamer
has fought storms all the way from Buenos
Aires and the sea-weary men are surly
when the skipper refuses them shore leave.
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women to bring liquor aboard. The skip-
per knows his men need relaxation but he
also knows he must rule with an iron hand
to win paying cargoes and deliver them
safely in war time.

Well, when the bumboat women come
aboard with baskets of fruit and souvenirs
the skipper and his mates, being nice —
and wise — guys, go to their cabins. Fights
break out after a wild celebration and the
officers come up, disperse the quarreling
seamen, and send the women ashore. But,
believe me, it was a wild and woolly af-
fair while it lasted. In the excitement I
grab myself a native gal and start mauling
her around (according to the script, mind
you) and she gets boiling mad, hauls off
with her basket and conks me a good one
on the noggin. It wouldn't have been so
bad if the basket had contained nothing
but fruit, but there happened to be a bottle
of snake-bite in it and I happened to get
a quick scalp massage with the butt end
of it. But I kept right on mauling (accord-
ing to the script) . Lady, this girl was a
wildcat if there ever was one! And so
I says to myself, "Script or not, I'm not
going to let this dame give me a going over
for free!" So maybe I did smack her back.
What I mean is, I gave her a couple of
cuffs. But it was with the flat of my hand,
no matter what she says.

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flg My opponent's name is Carmen
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deceive me, a very shapely and vivacious
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quit fighting and had shaken hands, that
she has had stage, screen, and radio work
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cussed me in all of 'em during our fight!

| I forgot to mention the excitement our
Wilmington location work aroused
among the crews of the foreign vessels in
port.

With war going on in most of the world
during the shooting, and with these for-
eign ships in the harbor, it was a foregone
conclusion that anything out of the ordi-
nary would be watched by many eyes.

The S.S. Munami, of the McCormick
Line, which doubled for the S.S. Glen-
cairn, was lying at Pier 178. Directly
across the channel was a large Japanese
boat taking on oil.

Shortly after we arrived at the harbor,
painters were set to work blotting out the
real name of the boat and substituting
Glencairn of London instead of Munami
of San Francisco.

Almost immediately, the railing of the
Japanese boat was filled with men who
trained glasses on the painting operation.
There seemed to be considerable excite-
ment aboard.

A little while later, when the American
flag was replaced with the British flag, the
excitement was renewed and there was a
continuous watch kept upon our boat until
the men finished work, repainted the
proper name on the ship and replaced the
American ensign.

It probably will always be a deep mys-
tery to the sailors from Nippon unless they
see The Long Voyage Home.

B All of us got quite a laugh the day
John Ford was directing Barry Fitz-
gerald, a well-known member of the fa-
mous Abbey Players.

With other members of the crew, Fitz-
gerald was lined up alongside a hold
watching a big crane hoist ammunition
boxes from the dock to the hold of the
ship. The seamen were complaining about
carrying such a dangerous cargo through
the war zone.

"Load an old 'ooker like this full o' that
bloomin' stuff an' wot is she?" Fitzgerald
spluttered, in a Cockney accent. "Just a
bum! A great, big dynamite bum!"

Everything was letter-perfect until he

got to dynamite, which he pronounced
"DOY-nee-mite." Ford protested.

"You're playing a Cockney, not an Irish-
man, Barry," he said. "Say dy-namite."

Fitzgerald repeated the word aloud sev-
eral times, pronouncing it correctly, but
every time in the excitement of the scene,
he'd revert to the Irish "DOY-nee-mite."

"Okay," Ford said at last. "If anyone
complains, we'll say you're a Cockney with
an Irish mother!"

So much for that.

■ Having shipped so much water dur-
ing my work in this picture I've been
taking treatments for water on the brain
and water on the knee and for the removal
of permanent waves up and down my
spinal cord, and I'm due right now for a
medical going over.

But before I do, let me tip you off to a
great treat.

During the filming of the picture, a
group of our celebrated contemporary
painters — Thomas Benton, Georges Schrei-
ber, Raphael Soyer, Luis Quintanilla,
James Chapin, Ernest Fiene, Robert Phil-
lip and George Biddle — put on canvas
their impressions of acts and actors in The
Long Voyage Home. When their paint-
ings are finished they will become part
of an exhibit visiting more than twenty of
our leading cities of America before being
given permanent display in various mu-
seums. When these paintings reach YOUR
city, be sure to see them. I'm no judge
of paintings, but what I saw of these was
more than enough to fascinate me, lowly
lowbrow that I am. See 'em by all means.

And now I'm headed for the doctor's
office. And after that, a long ride with
Monsieur Murphy McHenry, publicity
director of the Edward Small Productions,
to a location spot eighty miles north of
Flagstaff, Arizona, where I'm to do a bit of
Indian scouting and hunting with the fa-
mous Kit Carson. I'll be seein' you in my
buckskins and mocassins. Yes'm, I'm off
to range them thar ranges far and wide
and a-foot and a-horseback. If I don't
bring me back a couple of Injun scalps
for your souvenir chest I'm not the scout
I think I am.

Fall Style Notes

Yoke Neckline, Pockets and

Buttons, Three-quarter

Sleeves and Pompa-

/\ dour Hair Style

sSS^ held neatly with

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So each persuades the
other to turn around

It is still a draw when
a gun battle breaks out

Only one thing to do!
Our heroes hit the dust

Only it isn't dust, as
they've already noticed!

All Quiet?

At least we're safe

Howdy, stranger!

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PEQUOT LAKES • MINNESOTA

im; J

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MEAN LESS NICOTINE

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HIS HEART SANG:

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UNTIL, ALAS, SHE SMILED!

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When you see it, see your dentist! He may
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LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor

Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Side Glance at The Great Profile by Thomas Nord Riley 8

Lupino — Complete Redecoration by Lupton A. Wilkinson 16

Escape .: by Tom DeVane 23

They Knew What They Wanted by Duncan Underhill 25

How To Be the Blight of the Party (Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland)

by Kay Proctor 26

Hollywood Invades Virginia by Llewellyn Miller 28

The Hazards of Home (Olivia de Havilland) by Jessie Henderson 32

Injun Fighting in Hollywood [Kit Carson) by E. J. Smithson 34

A Trio of Cinderellas (Andrews Sisters) by Matt Weinstock 36

He Chases the Stars by Edgar Southpaugh 42

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Duncan Underhill 6

The Show Goes On by The Editor 12

Movie Crossword , 14

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 20

Movie Masquerade 20

Lining Up Fall Fashions by Candida 30

Hollywood Barbecue by Betty Crocker 54

Sleep, My Pretty One by Ann Vernon 58

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Publications, Inc. 11(10 West Broadway, Louisville. Ivy. Printed
in r. s. A. Entered as second-class matter at the post office a[r Louisville, Ky., under the act of March 3. 1.S79, with
additional entry at Greenwich, Conn. Copyright 1910 by Fawcett Publications. Inc. Eliott -.Odell. Advertising Director;
Roscoe K. Fawcett, Circulation Director; Ralph Daigh, Managing Editor; M Allard. Art Director; E. J. Smithson,
Western Manager. General offices, Fawcett Building, Greenwich, Conn. Trademark registered in 1". S. Patent Office.
Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and possessions; Canadian subscriptions not accepted; foreign subscrip-
tions $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds,
payable at Greenwich, Conn. Single issue five cents. Advertising forms close on the 18th of third month preceding date of
issue. Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence concerning subscriptions to Fawcett
Building, Greenwich, Conn. Advertising offices: New York. 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 300 N. Michigan Ave.; San
Francisco, Pimpson-Beilly, 1014 Russ Building; Los Angeles, Simpson-Reilly. Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices, 1501
Broadway, New York City; Hollywood offices, 8555 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, California.

HOLLYWOOD'S

FASHION
SPOTLIGHT

By CANDIDA

Watch this column each month. In it
your Fashion Editor will point out, page
for page, all the items of style signifi-
cance as pictured in photos of your favor-
ite movie stars. For instance . . .

Loretta Young (see page 6) drapes her
tulle wedding veil to look like a mantilla.
Mantillas and lace -edged veils inspired by
Juarez and our fad for South American
touches are new and romantic for fall.
Float one over an off-faced bonnet to
quicken heart interest.

Mary Martin (see page 6) wears a
tailored suit with the new hip length
jacket. Be sure your fall outfit has this
torso fit. Carry a flat, soft, underarm
pouch like Mary's, and wear a new puff-
crown suit hat.

Martha Scott (see page 10) knows the
value of lace this fall, though her costume
for The Howards of Virginia is "period."
Lacy shawls dress up last year's evening
frock. If you're buying a new gown, con-
sider the glamorous, non-crushable qual-
ities of lace. You could wear Gary Grant's
(same photo, page 10) fringed leather
jerkin, just as it is, for sports, or take
inspiration from the fringe, and add some
of long silk to give a slim skirted look.

Ida Lupino (see page 16) goes over to
the left side with the draping of her long
sleeved lame dress. Side draped frocks
(and side ornaments of all kinds) are
good. Even your winter coat should be
side-fastened.

Norma Shearer (see page 23) dresses up
her simple black dress with a single bright
ornament. A basic dress like this plus
accessory collars, necklaces and clips
means several costume changes. Norma's
cluster ring follows the trend to larger,
more massive looking jewelry. If you
can't afford the real thing, buy costume
rings and earrings as big as a quarter.

Olivia de Havilland (see page 32)
brushes her hair up for a new pompadour
hair-do. Pompadour curls are flattering,
especially when waved in front of a calot,
back-of-head pill-box or off-face turban.

Jon Hall's boots (see page 34) are the
newest love of college girls. Rubber ones
are grand for wet weather, and will be
good, later in the winter, for plowing
through snow drifts on the way to class.

Norma Shearer (see page 48) sets a cape
on her shoulders, and a style for you.
Capes, both short and long are smart
for day or evening. You can make a wool
dress into a fall costume by adding a hip
length cape of matching or contrasting
material, and topping it all off with a
twisted turban or beret to match the cape!

JUDY OAKLAND

The Merriest Pair on The Screen in a Great Musical Show!

■■-■■, .

W'W?'' ~<;':&m-.

th PAUL WHITEMAN and ORCHESTRA

Mickey's marvelous! Judy's
a joy! If you thought they
reached the top of the en-J
tertainment heap in "Babes
in Arms", wait till you see
them go over the top now!
With catchy songs and a
screenful of howls and
a grand heart-warming
story! What a show, folks!

I METROCOLDWYNMAYER PICTURE with

JUNE PREISSER • WILLIAM TRACY

Screen Play by John Monks, Jr. and Fred

Finklehoffe • Directed by Busby Berkeley

Produced by ARTHUR FREED

Great Song Hits: "Our Love Affair,"
"Strike Up the Band," "Nobody" and many more!

By DUNCAN UNDERBILL

■ The atmosphere was charged with
2,000 volts as Bette Davis approached
the key scene of The Letter. Haltingly
she approached Gale Sondergaard, stand-
ing regal and inflexible, her gaudy Chinese
robes making her an awesome figure.

Miss Sondergaard dropped a piece of
paper. Bette knelt, picked it up reverently
and scanned it. A silly grin spread over
her face and then she fell forward, laugh-
ing uncontrollably.

The paper, theoretically an important
prop in the plot, was actually a Bette
Davis laundry bill. Across it Miss Sonder-
gaard had written, in imitation Chinese
lettering:

"Long time no see. You pay up now
mebbe. No tickee, no washee. No money,
no panty."

fl Who directs the direction when the
director turns actor?

This delicate point came up on the set
of Too Many Girls when Dewey Starkey,
assistant director, called for a retake of a
scene in which Director George Abbott
had been the principal performer.

George Abbott fancies himself acting in
the role of a drunken collegian. Twenty-
eight years ago he played a drunken
college boy in Misleading Lady. That was
his first professional acting job on Broad-
way. In his own picture there was a spot
for a drunken alumnus of Pottawatomie
College in the rumba sequence celebrat-
ing a football victory. Abbott got the job
by grabbing it.

Merle Oberon, busy with commitments
at three studios, with her husband,
Alexander Korda, arrive at Mrs. Basil
Rathhone's British Relief Ball

Loretta Young leaving the Church of St.
Paul on the arm of her husband, Thomas
Lewis, after the marriage ceremony
which attracted a thousand devoted fans

An expert hoofer, he put on a neat
demonstration of his skill at the rumba,
his knowledge of comedy and timing, and
his talent as an actor, for he doesn't drink.

Starkey's call for a retake was strictly
a rib on the boss. Abbott consulted the
cameraman and the sound man and or-
dered the show to go on.

: [ In addition to Abbott's trick rumba,
the Too Many Girls company possesses
another oddity: Marjorie Deanne, the
fully-equipped chorus girl.

Marjorie isn't hungry or thirsty. She
doesn't need stockings, a fur coat or an
operation for her mother. She has a trust
fund that will enable her to retire at forty.
She saves sixteen dollars a week. She has
a completely equipped house, right down
to the electric toaster, all paid for. She
has a wardrobe that many a star would
envy. She has a piano teacher's certificate
and has proved that she can make a living
at that racket. She has a movie back-
ground that includes leads in Hal Roach
comedies, and she's working all the time.

What's the catch? There is none. She
wants to get married, but the boy must be
as ambitious as she is. His goal should
be the presidency of the United States, or
a cabinet job at least. No triflers need

apply-
Most girls who have done as well as
Marjorie at twenty-three would be about
ready for retirement. She is just getting
set for bigger things ahead.

Her music teaching netted about eight-
een dollars a week and was pretty boring.
So she studied dancing and elementary
voice and landed solidly in pictures. But
the voice lessons go on, as they have for

three years, three times a week. Marjorie
is a torch balladist, about half-trained
now, according to her own calculation.

In addition to a nice level head, her
equipment consists of a nice instinct for
mathematics, a well-rounded figure, a
blond temperament, a silver fox coat, a
blue fox cape, a silver fox muff, and an
ermine muff-and-hat set. Her larder is
full, her bills are paid up to yesterday,
and there's a full season's work in pros-
pect.

What's holding the boys back?

| Miss Carole Lombard has become the
Encino manager of the Just Stand
There Club, which fills a long-felt want
in our troubled republic. Some other
members are A. J. Liebling, Paris corre-
spondent of The New Yorker; Jim Hill, a
writer at Metro; Jack Roche of N. W. Ayer
& Son; Dick McDonough, Eddie Birnbryer
and Harry Herrman of the National
Broadcasting Company, Mabel Forrest of
the Bromo-Quinine Co., St. Louis, and
Jim Tierney of the Texas Company.

The circular letter circulated by Miss
Lombard among her neighbors goes like
this:

Dear Friend:

No doubt you will be eager to join
a new group which has been formed
in our set. It is called the Just Stand
There Club.

You have heard the familiar ex-
pression, "Well, don't just stand there.
[Continued on page 65]

Mary Martin, recently married to the
Paramount executive, Dick Halliday,
looks very gay after the press preview
showing of The Great McGinty

*Ovu>yi

««!«««*

■ In what picture does Bing
Crosby croon "That's for
Me" to a lovely lady who used
to admit publicly that her "Heart
Belongs to Daddy?"

2 Who are known as "the
most happily married couple
in Hollywood?" And in what
romantic comedy do they play
the roles of very quarrelsome but
very loving newly weds?

3 What nationally known
screen and radio character
has a new girl, not to mention a
new pal who is a terrific scene
stealer?

4 What girl is fortunate
enough in what moving pic-
ture version of a Joseph Conrad
masterpiece to spend a week alone
on a South Sea Island with Fred-
nc March?

SWho is the lovely English-
born beauty who steals Fred
MacMurray's heart in the big
new outdoors adventure picture
directed by Sam ("Goodbye, Mr.
Chips," "Our Town") Wood
And what Daughter of the Dust
Bowl makes news by playing a ter-
rific kid role in the same picture?

lV*w

lltt.

• ♦

1 H* *

!4S>tftR

YOUR

EVER^

flUE

EM****

M**

I Bing Crosby sings "That's for Me" to Mary
Martin in Paramount's "Rhythm on the
River," the big streamlined musical which also
stars Basil Rathbone, with Oscar Levant.

2 Joan Blondell and Dick Powell, of course, the stars
of Paramount's "I Want a Divorce," the picture
Hollywood is raving about as setting Joan and Dick
firmly on the comeback trail.

3 Henry Aldnch, America's new Peck's Bad Boy,
played by Jackie Cooper, has Boston and Broad-
way's cute little Leila Ernst, success of "Too Many
Girls" for a girl friend, and Eddie Bracken, also a star
of the same New York hit show, as his pal in "Life With
Henry" starring the Aldrich Family

4Fredric March in Paramount's all-star production
of Joseph Conrad's immortal "Victory" welcomes
Betty Field to his private island paradise in the South
Seas and starts a thrilling series of romantic adventures
in which Sir Cedric Hardwicke and other famous name
players play exciting parts.

5 Patricia Morison corrals the hard-boiled heart of
Fred Mac Murray in Paramount's "Rangers of
Fortune," the Sam Wood action adventure drama of
three rough, tough sons of the Old Border Country,
"Rangers of Fortune." Betty Brewer, the little Okie
kid, discovered singing on the Los Angeles streets
makes her film bow in this picture.

Tgt*"*"*^

'ficfc

*&&*

The Great Profile in action

Inspired

More hurt than angry

Plotting revenge

Resting

Amused

Side Glance At The Great Profile

2S Sprawled on a sofa in the blue polka-
dotted dressing gown was John
Barrymore, delivering a moan. Ann
Baxter bent over him; so did Gregory
Ratoff, the perpetually hysterical Russian.
'"Come, my little lady," said Mr. Barry-
more, clasping the hand of the actress.
"I'll make me vows."

"Wows?" exploded Mr. Ratoff in a
Russian blitzkrieg upon our dainty
American parlance. "Wows?"

Mr. Barrymore rose, stalked to a table
and lay his hand on a quart of whiskey.
"I, Evans Garrick," he intoned piously,
"do solemnly swear to put such spiritous
liquors from me lips forever."

Mr. Ratoff erupted with horror. "You
takink da pledge?" he bawled. "You goink
on da vagon now?"

John Barrymore, widely
known as the greatest of the
profiles, is making a film
based, in pari, on his own
career and adventures

By
THOMAS NORD RILEY

"The very thought of tasting the vile
stuff nauseates me."

"All right. You don't like da taste we give
it to you eentraweenowsly (he means in-
travenously:— translator), by injections."

From there 20th Century-Fox's The
Great Profile, starring John Barrymore
with Mary Beth Hughes arid John Payne,
staggers away in its delirium, but we
have had a clear squint at its central
theme. When Mr. Barrymore swears "to
put such spiritous liquors from me lips
forever" he is ripping the sheets off the
plot of this saga of an aging ham actor
with rum in his veins. A good many aging
hams have a similar liquid in their veins,
but this Mr. Garrick is different. Properly
plastered he is a smash stage hit; sober, he
stinks. The Great Profile is a drama of
two forces (wimmin — both of them) bat-
tling over a rumpot — one to keep him pie-
eyed, the other to reform him.

All in all the plot certainly does bear a
certain resemblance to Mr. Barrymore's

Offended

Heeding conscience's voice

Displeased

Accusing

Norman

Reilly
Raine's

It's the happiest new-hit news in an age!

...And the happiest WARNER BROS, hit of all!

Just wait till you see it!

MARJORIE RAMBEAU
as Annie

ALAN HALE
as Bullwinkle

:*k;f¥

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own heroic exploits on the stage and with
lively beverages. In his recent stage show,
My Dear Children, Mr. Barrymore was
a howling success when he ignored the
play and captivated the audience with the
spontaneous wit and eloquence of lines
added as he went along. Sober, Mr. Barry-
more was still the finest actor around, but
sober he felt a moral obligation to speak
the lines of the play and they smothered
him.

What is more, Mr. Barrymore was
looted for the title of the movie. He and
the words, "great profile" have been
synonomous for years. His phiz is as
famed for the chiseled beauty of its side-
view as the Leaning Tower for its lean.
From all this one might conclude that The
Great Profile is Mr. Barrymore's personal
history. It isn't. "The script," Mr. Barry-
more is reported to have said before we
arrived, "is not at all biographical, but it is
a characterization of a ham actor — a com-
posite quintessence of all hams."

If you want to be a stickler there are
some differences. Actually, Mr. Barrymore
is no ham. He is probably the best actor in
America. What is more, the guy in the

story has only one wife and Mr. Barrymore
has had a good many, though only one at
a time.

To your correspondent Mr. Barrymore
admitted there might be "elements of bi-
ography" in it. "Hell," he reflected,
scratching his bared calf with Barry-
moreian ferocity, "I might as well sell my
life. It's better than being put in jail for it.

"Milton Sperling birthed the eerie tale
without one tainted suggestion from me,"
Mr. Barrymore went on, warming up fast,
still scratching his calf, "and he couldn't
have done a more diabolically lifelike job
if he had been sitting in my own pretty
drawers when he wrote it. 'Tis weird,"
said Mr. Barrymore, "weird. Verily, I be-
lieve he knows me better than my wives."

Mr. Sperling's play is set first in Holly-
wood where Evans Garrick (John Barry-
more), an old-time ham, is three days
A. W. O. L. from a studio filming Macbeth.
The whereabouts of the wayward Mac-
beth are not known, but it is agreed he is
on a toot. Newshawks storm his home to
find out what's become of him, but
Garrick's wife, Sylvia, (Mary Beth
Hughes) doesn't [Continued on page 60]

Cary Grant plays the dashing backwoodsman in The Howards of Virginia who pays
court to the aristocratic daughter (Martha Scott) of a great family when he isn't
helping Thomas Jefferson with the Declaration of Independence, fighting Indians
and exploring the far western territory of Kentucky. The picture, filmed in large
part in Williamsburg, Virginia, promises to be one of the most interesting of the fall

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By THE EDITOR

Jg On the night that Spring Parade opens,
Deanna Durbin will receive an empty
cigarette package, somev/hat the worse for
wear, as a present. And this remarkable
gift undoubtedly will be reverently stored
among her dearest treasures, because on
it will be the original notes for the theme
song of her new film.

Robert Stoltz, big, baldish, charming
and sophisticated composer, has written 38
operettas, music for 52 films, 1,200 songs.
Maybe one reason for his astounding out-
put is that he never lets details get in his
way. He had an idea for a song for Miss
Durbin's colorature voice one morning at
breakfast. There was no tablecloth to
write on. The wrappers on the sugar cubes
seemed a little small. So he smoothed out a
cigarette package, jotted down the notes,
and by the time the second pot of coffee
was served, the song was finished.

Stoltz, who is Aryan, left his native
Vienna as a way of expressing his com-
plete distaste for the methods and man-
ners of Fferr Hitler, and, unable to speak
our language, is making friends in his new
home here with the universally under-
standable language of his songs, which are
all he saved when he left Europe. Most of
his possessions are in Vienna, and prob-
ably lost to him forever, but he shrugs,
gives a broad smile, and confides that he
saved 540 neckties . . . half of his collec-
tion . . . from the Nazis, and that he con-
siders that a very fine start for his new
life.

Stoltz is under contract to Universal and
will have a new operetta on Broadway
this fall. The operetta was written on reg-
ular paper, with the exception of one song,
which was jotted on a fine large linen
handkerchief while he was riding in a hack
through Central Park. He says that he
thinks it will be as successful as his Two
Hearts in Waltz Time, which was written
on a menu.

This man, one of the greatest of living
composers of popular music, is one of the
great new Americans. In an early issue
we shall tell you more about him, and also
about the courageous and brilliant Albert
Basserman, another fine artist who left
his homeland for ours.

J Oscar Levant, the man who answers
all those questions about music and
everything else on Information, Please
has just finished working in Rhythm on
the River in Hollywood, where he suc-
ceeded in amazing that town as much as
he does the whole nation. Don't miss the
amusing tale of how the movie capital re-
acted to Levant's stinging tongue.

■ Exclusive! Ida Lupino introduces
Hollywood's newest piece of costume
jewelry in next month's issue of Holly-
wood Magazine. Don't miss the first news
of this gadget that all of us will be wear-
ing before winter is well under way.

Very different are the parts Madeleine Carroll plays in Virginia and in Northicest
Mounted Police. Here she is shown in a scene from the drama of the Canadian wilds.
Mounties Rohert Preston and Preston Foster disapprove as Gary Cooper gets the girl

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■

10
19

■

14
24

20
28

35
45

46
54

49
56

ACROSS

1. A star of Boom Town.

6. Another star of that film.

10. Mrs. Humphrey Bogart.

11. Too Husbands.

12. ■ / Had My Way.

14. One of Dead End Kids.

16. Girl 313.

17. Dust My Destiny.

18. Movie studio and its adjoining territory.
20. He portrays mean boys in movies.

22. The Hawk.

23. The Stars Look .

25. The Never Sets.

26. A Child is .

27. Stop ■ and Love.

29. Lone Ranger's Indian pal.

31. Actor from Czechoslovakia.

32. His last name is Lane.
35. Naughty But ■.

38. One of Weaver Brothers;
Ote Ofry.

39. To perform in a screenplay.

41. Aunt Milly in Andy Hardy Meets a Debutante.

43. Brenda in Buck Benny Rides Again.

44. Hot .

46. We Meet Again.

47. Birthplace of Phyllis Brooks (abbr.).

48. He's Making Eyes at Me.

49. Walt Disney gave us White.

51. Nora Lane's initials.

52. Descriptive of John Wayne.

53. Whose role is that of Julie in Wagons West-
ward?

55. Davis Lockwood in Sporting Blood.

56. He played opposite Dorothy Lamour in
Typhoon.

he's in Grand

9.
13.
15.
17.
19.
21.
22.
24.
26.
28.
29.

30.
33.
34.
36.
37.
39.
40.
42.
44.
45.
48.
50.
52.
54.

DOWN

Billy Lee is one.
Leroy Mason's initials.

Man from Red Butte.

Joan Crawford's are blue.

Assumed parts in screenplays.

Bianca in My Favorite Wife.

Robinson's girl friend in Brother Orchid.

They Drive Night.

First name of a feminine dancing star.

You Can't Your Wife.

A star of Pride and Prejudice (poss.).
Remember Dytell?

Girls on Broadway.

Mr. Novarro's initials.
of the Navy.

He had lead in Gangs of Chicago.
Star of The Man With Nine Lives.
Star of Lightning Strikes West.
Date in October on which Helen Hayes cele-
brates birth.

Popular term for sound films.
One who plays a leading rclo.
M-G-M feminine star.

The and the Canary.

Poetic name for Errol Flynn's native land.

Saps Sea.

Singing voice of Allan Jones.
Gwen Porter in Framed.

Babies for .

The Wolf Meets a Lady.

j]xe Who Talked Too Much.

I on Adventuress.

Passport

Alcatraz.

Mr. Toler's initials.

(Solution on page 40)

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They called her "Hollywood** Dizziest Blonde*7
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By LUPTON A. WILKINSON

■ "Wash your face. Stop curl-
ing your hair. Quit playing
the night club baby. Don't be a
perpetual Wampas star. Be a
real human being."

That was Louis Hayward talk-
ing, in 1937 — talking to Ida
Lupino, who loved the brilliant,
distinguished young actor.

Ida is the essence of inde-

pendence and fight. No amount
of love would have made her take
that kind of talk — from anybody.
Except that it ran parallel (and
hurt!) with some look-in-your-
own-soul thoughts that — in
moments alone before her mirror
— recently had streaked Ida's
mascara. "Queen Of The Night
Clubs." "Hollywood's Dizziest

Below, Ida Lupino in the days when her

looks and her behavior won the nickname,

"Bahy Doll"

Above, this is how actress Lupine
looks today off the screen. Verj
different from the cutie at the lefl

Center, Hollywood's first glimpse of the new
Lupino was her extraordinary job in The Light
That Failed as the angry guttersnipe, Bessie

Blonde." "The Girl Who Could
Act With A Flick Of Her Eye-
brows." Those are the things
Hollywood called her.

To that phony creation of
beauty parlors, press agents, ego
and love of pleasure, Louis Hay-
ward spoke further:

"You're always asking, 'Why am
I not a success?' Instead, why
don't you stop trying to be a
spectacular person and be a
normal human being? When you
think the right way the right
things will happen to you."

Ida told him the truth — not only
about her own thoughts but

about a letter she had received
from her father, a man wise in
the ways of theatre, screen and
people. Mr. Lupino had written:
"Don't ever think you are good,
Ida, because the day you think
you're good — get out of this pro-
fession." Ida told Louis this, and
confided, "He was repeating some-
thing he'd said to me when I was
a little girl. He knew I'd re-
member. And he'd said, way
back then, 'Always go on striving
and think you are bad. Go on
trying to be a little less worse
than your last performance.' "
Ida added: "What has happened

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to me, Louis? I got hold of several of my
pictures the other day, and looked at them.
I cried. I know what Daddy meant. And
I look at myself and cry. I wasn't always
like this. I feel sometimes that I ought to
quit the screen entirely — quit everything
— and re-make myself."

Louis Hayward, loving what he knew
was under a surface that frankly repelled
him, clinched Ida's plan by saying,
"Gamble! Go on and do as you feel.
Gamble that you will be able to come
back a different kind of person."

So after Artists and Models, Ida Lupino
quit the screen. She retired to a tiny
house at the very point of Lookout Moun-
tain, topmost peak overlooking Holly-
wood, Beverly Hills and the blue Pacific.

Eighteen months she put to the job of
re-making a person and making herself
an actress.

The first fruit of Ida's "re-making" was
personal. Louis Hayward saw, before the
public did, that the real Ida Lupino had
emerged. An engagement that had
dawdled three and a half years became a
marriage.

Persons and actresses always will be
closely mixed in Ida because her earliest
memories are of the theatre. Here are
her early days, in capsule: She was born
of Stanley Lupino, writer, actor,- pro-
ducer, and Connie Emerald, one of Eng-
land's best character actresses. In the
garden of the house at Streatham, outside
London, was built a fully equipped play-
house. Ida's first memory is of plays
there, good professional work, respected
by press and public. At thirteen, Ida,
tall as she is now (five feet three) re-
belled at school. "I want to train to be
an actress." She said. Father said, "If
you can get a job in one day, okay." Ida
became movie extra, worked at it eighteen
months, salary one pound a week. She
traveled to work by bus or lived in cheap
lodgings near whatever studio was using
her. She acted without pay in repertory
theatres for the experience. Finally Allan
Dwan picked her out of a group, gave her
a film lead. Hollywood saw that, and
sent for her to play Alice in Wonderland!

Ida takes it from there:

"The Alice role fell through, because
they decided to make me a baby vamp,
a jitterbug de luxe, instead. I was will-
ing. Hollywood looked like a cinch to
me. It paid better money than I'd ever
dreamed of. I must be good, I told my-
self, I really must."

She does not think the studios made a
wrong guess in the parts they chose for
her.

"How could I have played the good
ones?" she asks. "When a girl finally
learns something out here, everybody
says, 'How could that other studio have
passed her up?' That's foolish. If they'd
given me real dramatic parts, I'd just
have messed them up."

"But you thought you were a pretty
good actress?"

"Thought! I was sure of it. That's
why I played the night clubs and made
hey-hey with the sunrise. I could walk
en a set, I thought, and walk through
any part. A flirt of the hand and a twitch

of the eyebrow. That was acting for Ida
Lupino."

"Did the wrong kind of beau, or cyni-
cism about love, or disappointment, have
anything to do with your — er, down-
grade?"

"Love? I was in love with nobody —
except myself. By the time I re-met
Louis — I had known him in London at
thirteen — I was a mess. How he saw
anything in me, or stuck by me, heaven
only knows!"

"And exactly what did you do in that
historic eighteen months?"

"I threw away the blondine bottle.

"I took off pounds.

"I stopped smarming" (the word is
Ida's) "my face with powder and paint
till a shovel was needed to clean it for
bed.

9 "As my appearance changed, I
changed. I changed from a bold per-
son to a nondescript one. I looked at my
face and said, 'With you I never could
have been a raving beauty, no matter
how hard I tried. You're a funny face
and a bit off the bias. Maybe I'd better
put some character into you.' "

Her medium for doing that was hard
■work. Hard work and concentration on
a plan for doing something for other
people. Ida gathered around her a group
of young folks. Some were working in
pictures. Some were trying to. They sat
around on the floor, without scenery or
stage costumes, and read and discussed
plays, hour after hour.

Louis Hayward had told her, "When
you think the right way, the right things
will happen to you."

It didn't look like a good prophecy to
Ida when she came down off the hill and
applied for a job. Who was this skinny,
intense young woman? Where was Baby
Doll, the Night Club Queen? "I couldn't
even get in to see most producers. Holly-
wood moves fast. In those eighteen
months I was completely forgotten.

At last she got in to see Harry Cohn,
president of Columbia. What he gave
her wasn't fancy — the lead with Warren
William in The Lone Wolf and a part
with Fay Wray in Mrs. Leonard and Her
Machine Guns, but Ida's gratitude to
Harry Cohn burns bright. "You don't
know what it is," she shivers, "to prepare
so hard for your profession and then find
the whole world 'Not in.' And remember,
I had put in seven years' honest, hard
work before I hit Hollywood and went
jitterbug."

Somebody at 20th Century-Fox heard
Ida in a radio skit and offered her the
feminine lead with Basil Rathbone in The
Return of Sherlock Holmes-. Then —
nothing much. (Funny, how we get
ready for the world — and the world
yawns!)

B Then came the chance that Ida wanted
more than anything else in the world
and she went after it.

Into Wild Bill Wellman's office at Para-
mount steamed a rather plain-looking
young woman, with mouse-colored hair
and features a bit off the bias. Her eyes

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2+h

blazed blue and she talked a blue streak.
Wild Bill, director of many fine pictures,
listened and when he could get a word in
edgewise, said, "I never saw you on the
screen, and I've no idea whether you
can act or not. But anybody who wants
a part as badly as you want this one, must
be able to play it."

So Ida got the part of Bessie in The
Light That Failed.

They Drive by Night, with the great
mad scene, and a swell Warners' contract
grew out of that.

I The Ida of today keeps the mouse-
brown hair that Wild Bill Wellman
saw. On her face, from which blue eyes
truly blaze in intensity, she wears no
make-up except a smear of scarlet on
her lips, put there more for drama, one
guesses, than for beauty. But all the de-
termined "I-won't-be-pretty" look goes
out of that off-the-bias face when she
speaks of Louis Hayward and their life
together. The eyes soften, the mouth
smiles under the scarlet with a quality
almost childlike, and both gay and lovely.
Take it from a male reporter, the new
Lupino has gained in Appeal. And here's
a second tip: one Hollywood double-
career marriage is doing very nicely,
indeed!

The "second Bette Davis" talk disturbs
this busy young actress. "I'm flattered,"
she said, when the subject was brought
up, "as flattered as if someone had pre-
sented me a bouquet of diamonds. But
it's a thoughtless and cruel tag to pin
on me, isn't it? I'm not half clever enough
to imitate Miss Davis, a great actress, if
I tried. And what I do do" — she was
fierce for a moment — "is me"

She paused. "I hope nobody gets the
idea that I think I'm an actress yet. All
I've learned is to worry about doing the
next part well. Just think — in High Sierra,
I'll have to play a straight role, no mad
scenes to help me. Just character to
portray. That makes an actress work!"

I asked: "What sticks in your mind,
most, about that historic eighteen
months?"

Ida returned: "It sounds sort of silly.
But most important is the realization that
I didn't have to go up on a mountain to
make myself over. I could have done
it in a tent. In a hotel room. In the
same house where I was living. The
only dwelling in which you need to work —
to change yourself — is the room of your
own mind."

I think Ida's got something there!

One of the Hollywood gossip broad-
casters frantically telephoned an actor's
agent and asked if he could borrow the
services of a star torch singer for his
program.

"I've got just the girl for you," the
agent reported. "She's positively the
best singer in the United States. The Met-
ropolitan and all the big networks and
concert halls are after her."

"Haven't you got somebody a little
worse than that?" the radio guy coun-
tered hopefully. "I'm afraid if your pro-
tegee is that terrific she will want money
for singing."

s.o.s. — s.o.s.

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For Sanitary Napkins

More women prefer Mum
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always use Mum!

TAKES THE ODOR OUT OF PERSPIRATION

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2th

[JX

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OF THE MONTH

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"i-'-wi?.f'.i'.-:vr/r." -. T.,'- '".St'*;

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B.-This necklace and bracelet set is
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Ruby, Emerald, Sapphire, Amethyst.
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ASHION DISCOVERIES, 1140 Broadway, N. Y.
'lease tell me where 1 may purchase the following:

I AME

IDDRES5.

By LLEWELLYN MILLER

BOOM TOWN — M-G-M

9 The picture starts and ends with a
fight, and in between there is gunplay,
love, double-dealing, a hair-raising oil-
well fire, Hedy Lamarr and more fights.
Almost everything happens in this pic-
ture except that neither one of the heroes
gets killed in the last reel, which is cus-
tomary in such tales of the love of two
rough men for one good woman.

In spite of the fact that much of the plot
is extremely familiar, Boom Town is splen-
did entertainment because of its back-
ground of rough life in the oil towns of
the early part of this century, and because
of the vigorous performances turned in
by Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy.

They fight in the first scene. Then they
become partners. That partnership is
broken up over a woman, and the sound
track reverberates with socks in the jaw
administered for varying reasons by first
one then the other throughout the rest
of the film.

Claudette Colbert has a rather thank-
less job of looking adoringly at Clark
Gable while he gets ready to paste Spencer
Tracy again. Hedy Lamarr appears as an
unprincipaled spy in the service of big
business. Frank Morgan has a funny role
as an harassed dealer in oil-well tools.

ANDY HARDY MEETS DEBUTANTE —
M-G-M

S No matter what he does, Mickey
Rooney is funny. If he hasn't the op-
portunity to act funny, he looks funny, so
there always is profit in his screen appear-
ances. His newest in the Andy Hardy
series is not so amusing as some of the
others, but all of the fans of the family
from Carvel will enjoy it just the same.

In this one, Andy's crush on New York's
Number One debutante is discovered by
jeering classmates and somehow Andy

gives them the impression that he knows
her well. Andy lied, of course, but it was
the instinctive defensive action of the cor-
nered animal fighting for its life. Unfor-
tunately, Judge Hardy was called to New
York, and decided to give the whole fam-
ily a holiday in the big city. That put the
luckless Andy in the wretched position of
having to furnish proof of his intimacy
with the glamour girl. He is a sadder and
wiser boy by the time he has lost a $400
shirt stud, borrowed for an important
meeting that never came off, and has tried,
innocently, to dine for one dollar at an
expensive night club.

Judy Garland again plays the adoring
sub-deb, and the rest of the Hardy family
behaves with its usual charm. Only Mickey
is vile, and he really is a rather unadmir-
able youngster through most of the action.
He probably will grow up to be a fine man,
however.

THE BOYS FROM SYRACUSE —

Universal

S There is one line left of Shakespeare's
Comedy of Errors in its musical
comedy adaptation, and you can't miss
that, because Joe Penner stops being the
twin Dromios long enough to tip you off
to it.

For the rest, there are songs, swung by
Martha Raye and Joe Penner, warbled
feelingly by Rosemary Lane and Allan
Jones, and comedy contributed by Charles
Butterworth, Irene Hervey, Alan Mow-
bray, Eric Blore and Samuel S. Hinds.
Scattered for extra laughs through the
film are pretty fancies, like a checkered
chariot complete with taxi-meter, a Good-
Humor man in toga and sandals hawking
his wares through the streets of ancient
Greece, and other modern improvements
such as night clubs and income tax
departments.

Allan Jones plays Antipholus of Ephesus,
the rather dull and pompous hero of the

Can you name the movie titles- suggested by each of the phrases given below?
Remember that the phrase suggests only the title, not the subject matter or plot
of the picture. For instance, "A cigarette lighter that ran dry" would suggest
the picture title The Light that Failed, although the picture itself is not about that
kind of "light." Par for the course is three out of five. Four is very good, five is
excellent. Answers on page 64.

1. What an airplane is, if it runs out of gas.

2. Conceit and biased opinion, beginning with the

same letter.

3. Canary suffering from acute melancholia. ,

4. What a faked income tax return can become.

5. Approximate date of the first mother-in-law joke

war against Syracuse, and his own twin
brother, Antipholus of Syracuse. Joe Pen-
ner plays both of the twin slaves. Since
the twins are identical, the wives (Irene
Hervey and Martha Raye) are convinced
that their husbands have lost their minds
through much of the action.

Not for lovers of Shakespeare, but fine
for those who like hearty farce.

SOUTH OF PAGO PAGO —
United Artists

| There is something about this picture
that worries this department.

Not the plot. It is exactly what might
be expected, with no surprises to irk or
irritate the fan who always has liked that
South Sea Island story. It is all there.
Victor McLaglen plays bad old Bucko who
is going to get the pearls, no matter how
many men he has to kill. Frances Farmer
plays Ruby, the hard dame who leaves the
water front dive to go along on the expedi-
tion with the large assortment of villains.

Jon Hall plays the noble child of nature,
chief of the happy natives whose life is an
idyll until the white men come with their
demoralizing cuckoo clocks, beads and
rum.

The pearls lie in deep water, and the
divers come up crippled or dying, but
does Bucko care? Not he! He gets Ruby
to go off on a honeymoon to another island
with the chief, and forces the natives into
the traitorous depths. It ends in the man-
ner custom long since has established as

^ the best one. Ruby makes two very noble
sacrifices and the villains, every one, get
what is coming to them. There is a great
deal of beautiful photography and some
exciting underwater scenes and fights, so
nothing about the picture itself worries
this department.

It is the title that bothers us.

Why do they spell it Pago Pago and
pronounce it Pangopango?

PASTOR HALL — United Artists

■ This picture was made in England
some time ago, and was considered so
bitter an indictment of Nazi Germany that
it was not released while there was still
hope of a quick termination of the war,
because it was considered best not to stir
deeper the anger of the British people.

It is an exceptionally well done film
about a good pastor in a small German
town where life moved smoothly and
kindly until the storm-troopers arrived
to spread a new gospel of force.

Pastor Hall was a gentle soul and a dip-
lomatic one, but he also was a man of
honor. For his refusal to use his pulpit
for the preaching of a doctrine of violence,
he fell under suspicion. For his aid to the
weak and the helpless, he was sent to a
prison camp. For his denunciation of all
that was brutal in the treatment of his
fellow prisoners, he lost his life.

Some of the scenes in the concentration
camp are so shocking that they are hard
to believe, but so are the headlines in our

newspapers during these awful days, and
there can be no questioning of the au-
thenticity of the reports we read each
morning.

James Roosevelt is distributing Pastor
Hall, and Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt intro-
duces the film with a short talk, in which
the warmth of her personality is seen to
telling advantage.

I WANT A DIVORCE— Paramount

■ Love comes to two young people, and
with love comes misunderstanding,
and with misunderstanding comes a movie
plot that bounces happily along in a com-
edy romance with a nice moral. Grandma
made a success of her marriage because
she couldn't get away from Grandpa,
seems to be the conclusion. If modern
wives didn't have jobs and had to depend
on modern husbands for support, there
would be less talk of unhappiness because
there would be no way out of marriage,
says Grandma. It seems a rather nega-
tive approach to the good life, but Joan
Blondell, as the unhappy young wife, and
Dick Powell, as the young husband who
makes more than the natural amount of
mistakes, end their quarrel when a des-
perate divorcee commits suicide. We felt
like getting a divorce from the movies
when Miss Blondell picked up the fried
chicken in those suede gloves, but we, too,
heeded Grandma's advice, and here we
are, still on the job, trying to see the other
fellow's side.

YVONNE FOX, SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY JUNIOR, SAYS:

0 0 JL.

o\womch000

ttu^w^xle^ \wXwud lookl

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Eye color, you see, is definitely re-
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Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th- 1 2th

MRS. MARY ELIZABETH WHITNEY (THE
FORMER MRS. JOHN HAY WHITNEY)

BEAUTY CREED:

"I'd rather have a beautifully-cared-for skin than
Beauty." So you asserted pridefully — rightfully.

And, contrariwise, this beautif ully-cared-f or skin
of yours proclaims you a Beauty!

For no girl who exercises such care of her skin
— joyously and meticulously — ever fails to exercise
similar care of two other aspects of her person
which, indeed, set off her skin's beauty. Namely,
the shining sculptured glory of her well-kept hair,
the chic simplicity of her dress.

All three are matters of Taste. Games of Skill!

Play your part in the exciting game of skin care with enthusi-
asm and with a wise head — and you will have exciting rewards.
Play it, as do many members of our foremost families, accord-
ing to the authoritative rules laid down by Pond's:

There are five moves in this stimulating Game. Each has
its definite intention, its ample rewards.

WOMAN-SKIN

so different from a man's in its
compelling softness . . . its in-
effably tender look and feel.
Instinct-wise, women since time
began have nurtured and pro-
tected the priceless heritage of
flower-fresh skin, made it a true
and natural accent of their es-
sential femininity.

UUIUI\ KtLtAbt — Bury your face under lush, luxurious
Pond's Cold Cream, and spank it forthrightly for 3 full minutes
— yes, even 5 minutes — with cream-wreathed fingers. Pond's
mixes with the dried, dead cells, make-up and foreign accumu-
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REMOVAL— Clean off the softened debris with the white
tenderness of Pond's Tissues. Wiped off also are the softened
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KhrLAI — A second time spank your face with cream-
softened fingers. This spanking increases both the actions of
Pond's Cold Cream — cleansing and softening. Again wipe off
with Pond's Tissues. Notice that superficial lines seem less
noticeable — pores look finer.

COOL ASTRINGENCE— Now splash with cool, fragrant
Pond's Skin Freshener, slapped on with cotton dripping wet.

omUU ! H rlNlon — Last, mask your face with a downy
coating of Pond's Vanishing Cream. This cream's specific duty
is to disperse remaining harsh particles, aftermath of ex-
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Play this through at least once daily — before retiring or
during the day. Repeat it in abbreviated form when your
skin and make-up need freshening. Act now to start your
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Send for Trial Case. Forward at once the coupon below.
Pond"*. Dept. 6-CVK, Clinton. Conn. Please send nle a com-
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shades. I enclose 10*! for postage and packing.

Address_

MRS. MARY ELIZABETH WHITNEY (THE FORMER MRS. JOHN HAY WHITNEY), like many other members of

distinguished American families, has for years observed the Pond's rules for skin care

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store Du.-ing Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th- 1 2th

Escape

l*^9»T\,

4f^

The < tirilliiig story of <»sr»j»4k from
SnvA |p<krmsiii<v. which wax a h<*st
s«kH«kr during lasi year and this,
promises <o he an exceptionally
exciting autumn screen offering

iiv tom n«VA\i:

B The Countess von Trench stepped out
of her portable dressing room, the
largest and flossiest these eyes have ever
seen in a good many years of movie-set
wandering. For one fleeting moment she
held her regal pose — then she wrig-
gled her nose, twinkled her eyes,
and became Hollywood's own Norma
Shearer.

It was between scenes on M-G-M's
Escape, and obviously there was some-
thing in the air. Nearly all the set work-
ers had stopped their labors, waiting for
a signal from Miss Shearer, who was car-
rying an elaborately-wrapped package.
She asked someone, "Where is he?" and
was assured that "he" was in a corner of

the set. "All right," beamed Norma, "let's
start it!"

The sound man started the huge "play-
back" machine. Immediately the stage
was filled with the enthusiastic strains of
"Happy Birthday to You." Miss Shearer,
bearing her package, took the arm of
Mervyn LeRoy, producer-director of
Escape. Others followed. Soon there was
a long procession daisy -chaining its way
to the corner of the stage, where an em-
barrassed Bill Cotton (Le Roy's assistant)
was wishing that such things as birthdays
had never been thought of.

Norma said simply, "Happy birthday
from all the gang, Bill!" embraced him
warmly and handed him the package. The

record (especially recorded by the whole
troupe one day when Cotton was off the
set) continued blaring forth its loving
message, while everyone applauded.

That's Norma for you. In the midst of
making one of the most important pic-
tures of her career, in a role that would
have most "serious" actresses who "live"
their roles immersed in gloom (Escape
is not the cheeriest story in the world)
the star still finds time to have fun. What's
more, she sets great store in birthdays.

Miss Shearer would have graced any
party the day we visited M-G-M and
Escape. To our masculine eyes, her heavy
white wool cape, with gold scroll em-
broidery around [Continued on page 48]

Robert Taylor as the desperate man who tricks the Nazis into releasing his mother from
prison camp. Norma Shearer as the courageous Countess who risks her life to help

■

9Si^SSt

LINDA

* DARNELL

Brian Donlevy * Jane Darwell • John Carradine
Mary Astor • Vincent Price • Jean Rogers • Ann Todd

and DEAN JAOGER Brigr^ Young

Directed by Henry Hathaway

Associate Producer Kenneth Macgowan • Screen Play by Lamar Trotti

A Twentieth Century-Fox Picture

r They Knew What They Wanted

Charles Laughton as Tony, the Italian winegrower,
celebrates his marriage to the waitress he wooed by
mail. Tony is a little drunk with joy and Dago red
because Amy (Carole Lombard) is not angry that
he sent her a portrait of his foreman instead of his
own. William Gargan plays the young hired man

■ They Knew What They Wanted is a
drama about the wine country of Cali-
fornia. Because Director Garson Kanin is
a stickler for correct atmospheric detail,
he moved cast, crew and equipment to
Napa, California, center of the western
wine empire.

This explains the encounter between
Mr. Charles Laughton and the lady tourist
from Iowa who stared at him during his
lunch hour. Mr. Laughton, wearing a curly
black wig and a sinister black moustache,
was in character as Tony the rancher. The
scene was Mr. Nick Fagiani's ranch on
the Silverado Trail north of Napa.

A rank of bystanders had drawn up
respectfully to watch the camera proceed-
ings, and they remained, mute and re-
spectful, during the luncheon recess. Mr.
Laughton, with a sandwich in one hand
and a glass of diluted Napa-grown wine
in the other, withdrew to a shady place.

The temperature was 115°
but the east had energy
left over for praetieal
jokes after the day's
shooting' was eompleted

The Iowa lady's eyes followed him and
remained fixed on him, eventually causing
some slight annoyance.

"Madame," Mr. Laughton remarked,
pleasantly enough. "I'm sure I would
not stare at you while you were eat-
ing."

"But, Mr. Laughton," the lady protested.
"You're not eating. You're drinking."

Wine-drinking, indeed, was one of the
important * off-screen activities of the
Hollywood troupe that invaded the Napa
Valley to film the famous Sidney Howard
triangle story about the rancher and his
wife and the farmhand.

The three sides of the triangle are
played, respectively, by Mr. Laughton,
Miss Carole Lombard, and Mr. William
Gargan. Two other players figure im-
portantly in the action: Frank Fay in the
character of a priest and Harry Carey as
a doctor.

Despite a consistent midday tempera-
ture of 115 degrees, spectators were never
lacking to gander at the maneuvers of the
cast among the vineyards. A deputy
sheriff equipped with two pistols, hand-
cuffs and a billy dangling from his belt
was supposed to preserve order on the
sidelines, but he was as goggle-eyed as
the veriest [Continued on page 46]

Comb and nail-file aren't part of
the service, so bring your own

o Be the Blight

of the Party

■ This story started to be called "How
NOT To Be the Blight of the Party."
We thought that Mickey and Judy might
have some cheering advice for the un-
happy people who always manage to do
the wrong thing.

But Mickey had other ideas.

"Prunes in buttermilk!" Mickey said
violently, after contemplating the title
mentioned. "If that isn't a woman for you!
Always the negative attitude toward life!"

Judy Garland gave him an arch look.

"There are times when a negative atti-
tude is indicated," she observed. "The
word, 'No,' is a mighty handy little gadget.
Every woman ought to carry one up her
sleeve."

"Oh, so you'd carry concealed weapons,
would you?" Mickey charged. "Well,
young lady, let me tell you that's a serious
cffense in this state. There's a whole sec-
tion in the Penal Code about it. Besides,
think how silly you'd feel hearing a police
broadcast some night with the guy at
headquarters saying: 'Calling Car 61 in
71's district. Trouble on the front porch
at 1035 Palooka Avenue. Judy Garland
with a No up her sleeve.' "

"Pooh!" Judy countered. "Maybe I
wasn't wearing sleeves. I'll bet I wasn't.
I know I wasn't, because I'd been dancing
at the Coconut Grove that night, and I had
on that cute red and white gingham with
reverse insets and just the faintest hint
of a bustle made by the big sash tied in a
bow. And if anybody felt silly, it was the
policeman!"

"You see?" Mickey said. "The negative
attitude again! Why don't you be positive
and say 'How To BE the Blight of the
Party"? Then you'd have something! And
think of the help it would be to all the
people who want to go around blighting a
party and can't because they don't know
how."

Well, I faltered, when he put it like that,
it did seem logical. Judy hesitated briefly
and then swung her vote over to Mickey,
too. So that's how we became a force for
evil instead of for good.

First off, Mickey said, let's understand
two things about the fine art of blighting.
One is that the novice must know exactly
what it is he is trying to accomplish. The
other is that he must put his whole heart
and soul in the work.

Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland give
some forceful pointers on how to ruin
any gathering, large or small. Read
this story and become unpopular with-
out loss of time. Act now! Don't
delay! Do it today! Obey that impulse!

By KAY PROCTOR

"The dictionary hits it right on the old noggin when it
defines the word, 'Blight,' as to check, nip, destroy or
frustrate," he said.

"It also says it's a disease in plants," Judy interrupted.
"Same thing," said Mickey. "The true Blighter is prac-
tically a disease, too. As for earnestness of purpose, the
would-be Blighter must remember that half a blight is no
blight at all, only a bore."

"Half a blight, half a blight, half a blight onward," Judy
began chanting for no good reason but with wonderful
rhythm.

"Please, Miss Garland, if you have no
ideas to offer us, be so good. . . ."

"Oh, I have, lots of them," Judy said.
"I've been around some of the best Blights
in Hollywood."

"I think there's a little gravel in that re-
mark, but let it go," Mickey said. "After
all, time is valuable."

"Yeah," I interposed. "I've got a dead-
line to meet."

"So has Mickey," Judy chuckled. "Get
it? Dead line."

"Pull — lease," I said. "I'm just a poor
gal trying to earn an honest living. I've
got a mother-in-law with a broken leg and
an FHA payment due on the 15th. Give
a gal a hand."

That got 'em. Actors are a pushover
that way.

We decided the simplest way to eluci-
date this blight business was to break
it up into the four situations which of-
fered the greatest opportunity for effec-
tive action.

"Let's take the car first," Judy said.
"After all, you have to get to a party be-
fore you can start blighting it."

In the event it is a formal party, always
call for the young lady in a roadster with
the top down. That makes a wonderful

HOLLYWOOD

Putting on a country-hick act is
guaranteed to be very blighting

Manners mark the man, so forget
yours to be a successful Blight

Be nonchalant! Show that yon
are used to forks. Be careless

Be informal. It shows that you've
been asked to leave the best places

If you have nothing to say, get
a little action into the occasion

Men like independence. Demon-
strate that you are resourceful

mess of her hair, they said, and starts
her off in an evil frame of mind.

"It helps, too, if the young man has
every known kind of jazz horn on the
car and drives up in front of your house
with a raucous medley of How Dry I Am,
Sweet Adeline, a couple of beeps and a
Bronx cheer," Judy said. "That puts her
parents in an ideal spot to give her a
quick going-over, and a swell excuse to
watch the clock to see that she's home on
the dot of twelve as ordered, because her
escort certainly can't be a very discrimi-
nating young man."

"I find it helps if the young lady turns
the car radio on right away and refuses to
dial anything but Jack the Bellboy rec-
ords," Mickey said. "That blight has the
grace of a stiletto stab, since all the pretty
things the young man planned to say to
her are drowned out in a blare of corny
music and corny jokes."

Another neat piece of blighting is for
the young man to open the car door for
the girl and then jump in ahead of her
as a "gag," they agreed. Such wit is
doubly funny if there's another couple
in the car to enjoy her discomfiture. And
speaking of the other couple. . . .

"Here's a wonderful one," Mickey said.
"First you talk another twosome into

OCTOBER, 1940

riding to the party with you because it's
so cosy. Then you exile the other fellow
to the rumble seat because it's too crowded
up front. Then you make a play for his
girl. Oh, boy! Does that blight things all
around! Your girl gets mad, the other
girl feels silly, and the poor dope in the
rumble seat freezes his ears and does a
burn at the same time. Everybody's ready
for a good, clean hanging by the time you
get to the party."

"I've got a dilly, too," Judy cut in. "One
of my pet Blights is the date who always
has to stop to get gas, or cash a check, or
make an important telephone call en route.
It's beautifully annoying at any time, but
particularly so if you happen to be late for
the party."

"Or the gent who feels he must show his
driving prowess by cutting corners, jump-
ing signals, and breaking every known
speed law," Mickey amended.

"Right," said Judy. "Or the gal who
screams at imaginary dangers or rides
herd on every move he makes at the
wheel."

H There you have a few starting pointers

in the pre-party blighting technique

and under normal circumstances, enough

to get by on. Variations and innovations

But don't work too hard at being
a Blight — might bore yourself!

may be added as the novice progresses to
expert. Little things like turning the rear
view mirror out of focus to use it for nose-
powdering purposes or appropriating a
fine, lace-trimmed handkerchief to wipe
a foggy windshield.
The next situa- [Continued on page 56]

Beautiful homes, over one hundred years old.
brought the east of Virginia and an enormous
crew across the country for authentic back-
grounds and the charm of southern summer

B v LLEWELLY N MILLER

-rJ~rf3=>

■ Director E. H. Griffith is a Virginian,
so he knows all about invasions from
tales heard as a small boy. Director
Griffith is also a kindly man, and he was
determined that the Hollywood invasion,
which he headed for the filming of
Virginia, should cause no bitter feelings,
let alone bloodshed. But, before the com-
pany left the state, the carnage was
terrible, thousands lost their lives.
Perversely enough, the county blessed
him for the destruction caused by his
visit, and already the "Welcome" ban-

ners are being prepared for his
return when the picture opens
in Charlottesville. But more of
Griffith's warfare later.

According to Griffith's reck-
oning, his is the fourth invasion
of Virginia. The first was when
the British harried that part of
the country during the Revolutionary
War. The second was when the North-
ern forces engaged the Confederate
troops during the Civil War. The third
is taking place right now, and it is

HOLLYWOOD

a story about that third invasion that
brought the Paramount forces into the
field. 3,000 miles from home base.

Before the Civil War, Virginia was a
land of great fortunes. Vast plantations
produced a life of leisurely, gracious
charm for their owners who felt keenly
their obligations to their country, their
state and their dependents.

The twentieth century did not change
the people, but it did affect the mode of
life. The old Virginia families retained
their manners, even when their money
was gone. Even though the rain ran
through the roofs of the big houses, even
though the paint peeled and grew dingy,
their pride in family and in tradition re-
mained bright. Their
bank accounts might

It was those low taxes and those swift
little foxes that started the invasion of
what the local gentry calls "carpetbaggers
from Manhattan." New Yorkers started
buying up old places for summer homes,
pouring fortunes into the renovation of
beautiful, dilapidated mansions, scouring
the countryside for antiques. Some of the
"foreigners" from the North were charm-
ing people, and were accepted . . . with
reservations, of course, but still accepted
... by Virginia society. But some were like
the misguided ex-
bootlegger who at-

really excellent marksmanship with
sawed-off shotguns. The ex-bootlegger
undoubtedly was an extremely good
marksman and he did get himself talked
about, but somehow, he wasn't, successful
at making friends in the South, and when
he went away from there, nobody went
down to the train to tell him goodbye.
[Continued on
•page 62]

^recv«*„ otve

\Vve

«*%***>•

sHa*

be slim, but their

taxes were low, and

everybody had good

horses and plenty of foxes to hunt. Life had

plenty of compensations better than cash.

OCTOBER, 1940

tempted to become a
country squire in six months
by the simple-hearted ex-
pedient of getting himself
noticed. Not satisfied with
one fox, he released a dozen at a time, and
he and his friends demonstrated their

Cold drinks were an essential part of
everybody's equipment in the fierce heat

ir:*M

t;
C
d

w
V

rfcl »v-iov.i_y tXiWCtgjLi, cue VJUUilL,y

him for the destruction caused by his
visit, and already the "Welcome" ban-

uicaacu

em j.uiccb engageu me v-onieaerate
troops during the Civil War. The third
is taking place right now, and it is

HOLLYWOOD

es Virginia

a story about that third invasion that
brought the Paramount forces into the
field. 3,000 miles from home base.

Before the Civil War, Virginia was a
land of great fortunes. Vast plantations
produced a life of Jeisurely, gracious
charm for their owners who felt keenly
their obligations to their country, their
state and their dependents.

It was those low taxes and 0u
little foxes that started the ini
what the local gentry c..;.-
from Manhattan" New Yorker
buying up old places for summer homes,
pouring fortunes into the renovation ol
beautiful, dilapidated mansions, scouring
the countryside for antiques. Some of the
"foreigners" from the North were charm-
ing people, and were accepted . . . with
reservations, of course, but stilt accepted
... by Virginia society. But some were like
the misguided ex-
bootlegger who at-

« eel lent muksnutnship with
: shotguns The ex-bo

undoubtedly was m

hixnsell talked
about, bin somehow he
at making friends in the South, and when
he went away from there, nobod

tin to tell him goodbye
[Continued on
[i 62]

tt,Vtlc<"

c-*5>*

1M***^-Sg*

Yxc»»

CO"*'

lloiiiiilfnl Iioiimvn. over one hundred years old.
brought the <hni of Virginia und mi enormous
crow across Hie country for nuiliciuic back-
grounds anil Hie charm of sonlhorn summer

II v LLEW KM-Y >' >■ I

I, i: It

■ Director E. H. Griffith is a Virginian,
so he knows all about invasions from
tales heard as a small boy. Director
Griffith is also a kindly man, and he was
determined that the Hollywood invasion,
Which lie headed for the filming of
iftrginia, should cause no bitter feelings,
Lei alone bloodshed, But, before the com-
pany loll the state, the carnage was
lerrlble, thousands lost their lives.

lYivrrsnly cnmigh, the county blessed

him for the destruction caused by his
visit, and already the "Welcome" ban-

ners are being prepared for his
return when the picture opens
in Charlottesville. But more of
Griffith's warfare later.

»<^^

HOLLYWOOD

be slim, but their

taxes were low, and

everybody had good

horses and plenty of foxes to hunt. Life had

plenty of compensations better than cash.

OCTOBER, 1940

npted to become a
,.« jntry squire in six months
by the simple-hearted ex-
pedient of getting himself
noticed. Not satisfied with

one fox, he released a dozen at a time, 1

he and his friends demonstrated their

CoM drink>
ever? body*!

were on essential perl oi

i|ni|uiH m in the ftera '" "

Lining Up Fall Fashions

■I

By CANDIDA

Write Candida for the names of
stores where you can buy these
smart, inexpensive clothes, and for
further information on prices,
colors, materials. Send your let-
ter to Candida, HOLLYWOOD,
1501 Broadway, New York City.

Accents count! Adola Do-Re-Mi Bras are
scaled to small, average or full busts.
Yearound Slip, guaranteed, is of shadow-
proof Star Dust Crepe. Ruffles and- ro-
settes put frills on Van Raalte Gloves.
Fri-Lo Personality Tag Bag is saddle
style, for double room. New looking gold
metal rings and topaz are features of
Lisanda necklace and matching bracelet

You'll love Martha Scott's Shep-
herd Sweater. It's hand embroid-
ered on Shetland, with knit
sleeves and back. Flared skirt
and short or knee-high socks
re in matching fall shades

Know your lines as well as Gene
Tierney? You'll wear her but-
toned up torso suit designed by
Audrey Jane, and her new hip-
length chenille cardigan with
patch pockets from Rosanna

Grace McDonald is Uancing on a

Dime in her Kitty Fisher dress, and

so will you. Ruching, profile beret, look 1940

The Hazards of Home

Olivia de Havilland has hair-raising
tales to tell about the wild excitements
that beset the novice housekeeper

JESSIE HENDERSON

■ Olivia de Havilland could keep house all right, if it weren't
for the bees. Or the doves. And the ants don't help any,
either. In fact, Olivia is very little help, herself.

But in spite of all this and that, Olivia de Havilland is keeping
house with might and main in her kind -of -English domicile
with the pink roses beside the path. These days, Olivia lives
alone — and likes it elegant.

"It's perfectly frightening," she said the other noon, with a
contented sigh, "to like to live alone, so much!" Olivia had
just run to the Brown Derby from the Warner lot, during a
pause in work on Santa Fe Trail. She was looking very snazzy
indeed in a gray and white striped suit, and silver ear-clips
that somehow brought out the velvety brown of those eyes.

You understand, Olivia hasn't always felt that way about
living alone. With a mother and sister, she never thought she
could stand a house without the whole family in it. She and
her mother and sister took this house in the first place because
it was near beautiful, big Griffith Park on the edge of Hollywood.
Olivia and sister Joan Fontaine could plunge from their side
yard into the park and hike for hours in the green wilderness.
Mother could knit under that wistaria arbor, and the whole
family could be together, as always.

Then one day Olivia looked around, and the family
wasn't there. Mother had gone to Saratoga, Calif., on a
prolonged trip to visit friends. Sister Joan had married
Brian Aherne. Of course Olivia missed them something
awful. But, do you know, the house seemed sort of
quiet and peaceful and — and as if it belonged to Olivia?
It was the first time, really, that she'd ever
had a dwelling which was completely her
own.
Olivia doesn't like to cook, and she would
shy at a broom like a horse at
a rattler (who doesn't?) . . . but,
just the [Continued on page 50]

Olivia de Havilland. soon
to be soon in Santa fV
Trail, thinks over a house-
keeper's problems with
a certain thought fnlnoss

"A Miracle is happening to You right now

A 'NEW-BORN-SKIN'

for your OLDER Skin!".^^^^^!^

The Miracle of Reborn Skin

Your skin is constantly wearing out —
drying — flaking off almost invisibly. But
it is immediately replaced by new-born
skin —always crowding upward and out-
ward. Lady Esther says you can help
make eacli rebirth of your skin a true
Rebirth of Beauty!

Is that possible? Yes it is! It is not only possible, it
is certain. For right now, nature is bringing you a
wonderful gift, a gift of a New-Born Skin. It can
make you look younger, it can make you look love-
lier and my 4-Purpose Face Cream can bring to this
New-Born Skin a newer and more flattering beauty.

JUST BENEATH your present skin lies a younger and a
lovelier one! Yes, with every tick of the clock, with
every mortal breath you draw, a new skin is coming to life
on your face, your arms, your entire body.

Will it be a more glamorous skin? Can it make you look
more youthful? Yes, says Lady Esther, it can! If . . .

If only you will let my 4-Purpose Face Cream help you
to free your skin from those tiny, almost invisible flakes
of worn-out skin that must be removed gently before
your new-born skin can be revealed in all its glory!

Why should any woman risk this menace to her youth-
ful loveliness? Yes, why should she be a victim of her old,
her worn-out, her lifeless skin? asks Lady Esther.

My 4-Purpose Face Cream gently, soothingly permeates
these lifeless flakes . . . and the tiny rough spots vanish!
Impurities are lightly whisked away . . . your skin looks
fresh as youth itself ... so smooth that powder stays on
for hours! Lady Esther Face Cream cleanses so thoroughly
and so gently that it actually helps nature refine the pores !
All the world sees your skin in all its New-Born Beauty!

Ask Your Doctor About Your Face Cream

Only the purest of creams can make your budding skin as
beautiful as it should be.

Ask your doctor, and all the better if he is a specialist
on the skin. Ask him if he has ever, for any skin condition,
administered vitamins or hormones through the medium
of a face cream.

Ask him if every word Lady Esther says isn't true— that
her cream removes the dirt, impurities, and worn-out skin
beclouding.your new skin about to be born!

Try my 4-Purpose Face Cream at my expense. See if it
doesn't bring you New-Born Beauty — if it doesn't keep
your Accent on Youth!

Lady Esthkr.

7130 West 65th St., Chicago, III. (CO)

Please send me your generous sample tube of
Lady Esther Face Cream; also nine shades of
Face Powder, free and postpaid.

Name

Address.
City

-State,

Uf you live in Canada, write Lady Esther, Toronto, Ont.)

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th- 1 2th

Our favorite extra has a ter-
rible experience with the
noble red man and decides
that ticket-scalping is the
nearest he cares to come to
dealing with primitive life

By E. J. (OF Chief Flatfoot)
SMITIISON

Fighting
ollywood

DEAR EDITOR:

Would you believe it if I told
you that I'm up here at Kayenta,
Arizona, and that less than five
minutes ago I am squatting on
my haunches around a huge bon-
fire chanting weird chants with a
couple of hundred Navajo In-
dians? Nope, I guess you
wouldn't. But, believing it or not,
here's your extra boy friend, 300
miles from Hollywood on loca-
tion with Edward Small's Kit
Carson troupe and having the

Jon Hall, who plays the fearless
Kit Carson, with Lynn Bari who
is seen as a frontier heroine

time of his life. I felt like sending you one
of those "wish-you-were-here" postcards,
but figured best not since you never did
have a hankering for Injuns, desert,
horses, rattlesnakes and so on.

Well, anyways, no sooner had I reached
the end of the line on Walter Wanger's
The Long Voyage Home and had removed
all that sea water from my eyes, ears, nose,
and throat (and those splinters from the
seat of my sailor britches) than does Mur-
phy McHenry, publicity director of Small
Productions, give me a buzz and say he's
got a week's chores for me to do on Kit
Carson. The troupe, he said, would consist
of about 300 people, principals and all, and
the trek into Arizona would start that
night via airplanes, automobiles, and train.
So I signed up right then and there
over the phone. [Continued on page 38]

This new kind of heater
FLOODS your floors with warmth!

ANEW blessing comes with oil heat this
winter — even more important than
cleanliness and convenience!

Now you can enjoy heat that floods your
floors with cheerful warmth — heat which is
forced into far corners . . . into other rooms
— heat that costs /ess than oil heat ever did
before !

Forced circulation — with Power-Air* enables
the Duo-Therm to heat better "from the
ground up"! Heat is driven to the floors,
and is kept in constant circulation at the

Uneven heat without Power-Air!

TOO HOT HERE 95°

WARM HERE 79°

COLD HERE 62°

Copr. 1940. Motor Wheel Corp.

♦Patent applied for

living-level — instead of "loafing" at the
ceiling. You get more uniform comfort in
your rooms from top to bottom!

You get something no fuel oil heater has
ever given before : a positive forced circu-
lation of heat like that of the latest base-
ment furnaces! And Power- Air means a
sensational saving in fuel costs!
Save up to 25%! Not only does Power-Air
give you better heating — it does it for less
money! Recent tests in an ordinary home
showed that a Duo-Therm with Power-Air

All-over, even heat with Power-Air!

WARM HERE 80°

WARM HERE 72°

\ ^=>r*j*.

WARM HERE 70°

Now see how Duo-Therm's Power-Air drives
ceiling heat down — puts it to work on your
floors — gives uniform comfort ! Note the ac-
tual test figures — only 10° difference be-
tween floor and ceiling — three times better
heat distribution !

kept the house warmer — while using LESS
OIL than a heater without Power- Air!

And — Power-Air costs no more to run
than a 50-watt lamp!

Has most efficient burner made! The handy
front dial "tunes" your Duo-Therm to any
heat ! The patented Bias-Baffle Burner oper-
ates at any setting with equal efficiency,
cleanliness and silence — gives more heat per
gallon of cheap fuel oil! The special waste-
stopper saves fuel! Another grand comfort
is the radiant door — open it and you're
warmed through in a jiffy ! And a Duo-Therm
is safe — all models listed as standard by the
Underwriters' Laboratories.

Keep cooler in summer, too!

The same Power-Air blower that
drives heat in the winter can be
operated independently of the
heater to give a cooling 27 mile-
an-hour breeze in the summer!

Even with Power-Air, a Duo-Therm costs
no more than other heaters! Get immediate
delivery now on the easy payment plan. Go
to your Duo-Therm dealer today and see
the 12 beautiful models. They heat 1 to 6
rooms — come in the console or upright cab-
inet type. All can be equipped with Power-
Air. For further details — mail the coupon
now!

New Ail-Weather

DUO-THERM

Fuel Oil Circulating Heaters

i TEAR OUT AND MAIL— TODAY! -,

DUO-THERM DIVISION

Dept. H-30, Motor Wheel Corporation, Lansing, Michigan

Send me, without obligation, your complete illustrated catalog.

Name

Street-
City

-County -

Sta re-

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th- 1 2+h

A Trio
of Cinderellas

For eight long years the Andrews sisters
sang for their suppers, but seldom made
enough for breakfast and dinner, too.
Now" they are a hit on the air and are
making a movie in Hollywood, but
they still have an unfulfilled wish

By MATT WEINSTOCK

The three Ritz brothers and the
three Andrews sisters join forces
for fun in Argentine Nights. It is
the Ritz' first film in two years. It is
the first the Andrews have ever made

| In the case of the Andrews sis-
ters, three is never a crowd. They
have been in perfect harmony now
for ten years. When they don't like
any ordinary harmony they make up
their own.

They sang their way into a kiddies
revue vaudeville act eight years ago
and learned what it was to troupe —
the hard way. They batted around
the country for five years, unappreci-
ated and frequently hungry. Today,
they are the darlings of the jitterbugs.

Their success can be pinned down to a
small-size hard rubber disc — a recording
titled Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen. They sang
it into a microphone nearly three years
ago. It became a hit and sold 220,000 cop-
ies, starting them on the road to fame
and three meals a day.

They followed through with records of

Hold Tight and Well, All Right. But last
year they really mowed down the nation
with their tricky, infectious rendition of
Beer Barrel Polka, which sold half a mil-
lion copies. Inevitably the movies grabbed
at them and now they are at Universal
City, making Argentine Nights with the
Ritz brothers.

New songs, familiar harmony, and
their own particular brand of clown-
ing caused the studio to expand
the parts of the Andrews sisters
after their first day on the set

The girls are La Verne, twenty-
four; Maxene, twenty-two, and Patty,
twenty. They are amazed that Holly-
wood, reputedly so hardboiled, is so
nice. Conversely, Hollywood is
astonished that the girls are so young,
so refreshing, so vivacious.

La Verne is the balance wheel. She's
as near to being serious as any of
them ever get. Maxene is frivolous
but surprises an interviewer with
rare insight into human nature and
good hard common sense. Patty —
full name Patricia — is the fireball. In front
of a microphone, an audience, a camera, or
a luncheon companion, she is strictly a
madcap.

When they were just kids, nine years
ago in Minneapolis, the girls used to pick
tunes off the radio after school. Then, be-
fore they forgot them, they rushed to the

piano. With LaVerne at the keyboard —
she's the only one who reads music — they
worked out their own arrangements.

Pretty soon they realized the biggest
thing in life to them was singing. They
practiced every day, devising original har-
monies, hot licks and breaks.

One day they entered an amateur show
and sang a few songs. The applause was
heady wine. Amateur audiences heard
more of them.

"Either we're good or we're not," said
Patty, in her characteristic frank approach
to any problem, "let's find out." She
flipped a newspaper at her sisters. It had
a story about Larry Rich, head of a vaude-
ville kiddie act, that was appearing in
Minneapolis. He gave them an audition
and thought they had something.

"Rehearse for two months and join the
act in Atlanta," he said. They were there
waiting for him. Thus was launched their
professional career, if you count working
hard for five years for practically no
money "professional." Ill luck dogged the
troupe, which finally stalled in Davenport,
Iowa. Things looked black indeed, until a
wire came telling of an engagement in
White Plains, N. Y. The sixty members
of the troupe were loaded into a passen-
ger bus — capacity twenty -five. The trip,
which should have been made easily in
three days, required eight. They arrived
in time, however, for a New Year's Eve
date, though Maxene and Patty had a
waffle effect on their southern exposures.
They had slept in the baggage rack.

"You can't tell me the covered wagon
pioneers suffered any more than we did,"
claims Patty.

After a couple of years with the troupe
the girls tackled vaudeville on their own,
and found it very rough going.

"What point do you consider rock bot-
tom?" they were asked.

"Rock bottom any time is when you
don't eat!" flashed back Patty with hearty
conviction.

Their below sea level "low" had a Chi-
cago locale. The girls had not eaten for
two days. They were living in a big hotel,
waiting for either the sheriff or manna
from heaven.

In the basement was a ping-pong table.
Patty, with nothing else to do between re-
hearsals, had become quite expert. One
day a strange young man asked her to play
a game and she agreed — for a twenty-five-
cent wager. It was a tough game but
Patty won. "I had to!" she exclaimed.
"Twenty-five cents! A fortune!" The youth
wanted to play another game but she said
no. She could hardly wait to collect the
quarter and get some food. Then she
learned he was the city champion and al-
most fainted.

Another time the girls had used their
last dime, awaiting a call from the agency.
They were especially dispirited because
they had been told, after an audition that
looked like a job, "You girls ought to for-
get about singing. Go home and go back
to school!"

They would have welcomed a good
healthy wolf at the door for eating pur-
poses. Perhaps LaVerne was out looking
for one when she found an envelope in the

MATILDA: Oh me, oh my — read this. I
knew there'd be trouble if Ted didn't
stop picking on Jane.

SUSAN: The poor creature! He raised
such a fuss about his shirts — she got
desperate and left. Come along, Ma-
tilda— we'll fetch her back and show
her how to keep the brute happy.

SUSAN: You heard me, young lady! He
wouldn't be always storming about
tattle-tale gray — if you'd stop using
weak-kneed soaps that can't wash clean.

MATILDA: Change to Fels-Naptha — golden
bar or golden chips. Either way, you get
richer, golden soap working with gentle
naptha! That team sure makes dirt scat!

TED: Yep — the merry-go-round next ! My
shirts look so swell since you put that
big, golden bar of Fels-Naptha to work,
I'm going to treat the three of you to
everything in the park!

SUSAN: And take it from your wise old
auntie, Jane, nothing beats Fels-Naptha
Soap Chips for washing machines. Husk-
ier, golden chips — they're not puffed up
with air like flimsy, sneezy powders.

Golden bar or golden chips

FELS-NAPTHA BANISHES
"TATTLE-TALE GRAY"

Wherever you use bar-soap,
use Fels-Napth a Soap.
Wherever you use box-soap,
use Fels-Naptha Soap Chips.

COPR. IB40.FELS&CO

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th- 1 2th

^^^^^^^^^^™

VM/A/e£0&?&? C/SeDRMO

1 • "Football practice?" queries Jack's
mother. "Not till he clears this drain!"

3. "Now watch. Drano's specially made
to put the heat on down where the stop-
page exists. Its churning, chemical boil-
ing melts greasy muck. Soon, all's clear!"

2. "Sa-ay, haven't you heard about
Drano?" marvels his pal "I'll get some."

4. "That Drano's swell!" enthuses Jack,
heading toward the field. "You say you
can keep drains clear by using Drano
regularly? That's worth knowing!"

Drano

CLEARS DRAINS

P. S. A teaspoonful after the dishes

guards against clogged drains.
Won't harm pipes — no objectionable
fumes. Never over 25^ at grocery,
drug, hardware stores.

Copr. 1940, The Drackett Co.

snow containing one ten-dollar bill and
two fives.

"Boy, did we eat!" she exploded remi-
niscently. "I hope the loser didn't mind
too much."

■ On the way up the girls were turned
down by experts. Among those who
said "No" after auditions were Fred War-
ing, Paul Whiteman, Rudy Vallee, Ben
Bernie and Abe Lyman. Since clicking,
they've sung with Jimmy Dorsey, Artie
Shaw, Tommy Dorsey, Glen Gray, Gene
Krupa, Bob Crosby, Johnny Davis, Woody
Herman, Jan Savitt, Harry James, Johnny
Richards, Benny Goodman and Glen
Miller.

When their luck turned, there was no
half-measure about it. Blase Broadway
acclaimed them. They were a sensation at
the Paramount theatre. In two years they
made five record-breaking appearances at
the theatre, receiving $1,750 for the last
week.

H Across the table at Universal's com-
missary, the girls seem somehow dis-
associated from the high geared structure
of the entertainment world. They are

frankly movie-struck and captivated by
California's informality.

An interviewer trying to pry loose in-
formation on the care and training of
swing singers has to hold still every few
minutes for minor excitements.

One time it was Patty interrupting,
"Ooo, could I go for him!" It was Brian
Donlevy, in a western costume, passing
by. Five minutes later it was Maxene ex-
claiming over Broderick Crawford.

The Andrews sisters' cinema debut finds
them at the mercy of the irrepressible Ritz
brothers, stars of the picture. Al, Jimmy
and Harry Ritz have established them-
selves as the most diabolical ribbers in
Hollywood.

The Ritz brothers wasted no time. The
minute the sisters timidly entered the
sound stage, each Ritz grabbed himself
an Andrews, clasped her in a half-Nelson
embrace and showered her with a bur-
lesqued conception of torrid Latin kisses.
It wasn't any use to fight. There was no
place to run. The Ritz' were making so
much noise it would have been useless to
scream. They were just getting ready to
faint, all at the same time, when Director
Al Rogell called "cut!"

He had a camera on the whole business,
and had made them a souvenir film!

■ At first it was planned that the girls
would be largely atmosphere, as most
singing groups are in the movies. But they
proved to be such resourceful comedi-
ennes that the script was rewritten to give
them enlarged parts.

"Well, all right, you Cinderellas," said
the interviewer, "you're selling two mil-
lion records a year, you've hit the top
rung in the radio, vaudeville and now
you're in the movies. If a fairy godmother
gave you a wish, what have you left to
ask for?"

"We've never been able to make any
dent on the folks in our home town, Min-
neapolis," they confided. "If we had just
one wish, we'd ask to have the picture
premiered there, and maybe we could
make a personal appearance!"

In j mi Fighting in
Hollywood

[Continued from page 34]

Come evening and before I sit myself
down on one of the choice seats of the iron
horse I think it a smart idea to dig up some
wampum and buy me a couple of bottles
of Kickapoo Indian Sagwaw, the same be-
ing a sure-fire preventive against snake-
bite, ingrowing hair, carbuncles, mumps,
measles and thrombosis, not to overlook
sunburn, sunstroke, and eczema. No
sooner do we get out of the station than
about fifty guys begin suffering from vari-
ous assorted afflictions and beg a nip of my
Kickapoo remedy, so that when I arrive at
this town of Kayenta, Arizona, I have left
no more than three fingers and a snort of
my liquid cure-all, and I save it until we
get on location. But not for long. When I
see all those Navajos, those teepees, those
pretty squaws, and feel the desert cold
creeping up my bones, I out with the med-
icine and down it all to keep my wigwam.
Or something.

This Kayenta is located on the Navajo
Indian Reservation and is (in case you
want to visit it sometime) 160 miles north
and east of Flagstaff. There are about 50,-

000 Navajos living on the reservation, and
for the most part they adhere strictly to
their old tribal rules and customs. I have
no fancy for this as I think back and recall
that an old Sioux once took out his scalp-
ing knife and sliced the hair off my great
grandpappy's head. "I am more than
somewhat allergic to these here redskins,"

1 tell Murphy, "and if they are to clutter
up this location I shall have to go back to
Hollywood and find myself another extra
job." But Murphy, being pretty persuasive
with that Irish tongue of his, finally gets
my promise to stay put until the next
morning. "There is a tribal dance tonight,"
he tells me, "and the way those bucks and
does can shuffle along is worth watching."

Well, all I can say, Miss Editor, is that
I wish you could have been there. I would
have enjoyed more than somewhat seeing
you take part in what I learned was the

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4+h- 1 2th

Betty Grable dances a speedy rhumba

in Twentieth Century-Fox' lively new

musical, Down Argentine Way

annual "squaw dance" of this Navajo tribe.
The shindig lasted for three consecutive
nights, with those Injun jitterbugs get-
ting hotter and hotter all the time!

This squaw dance, just in case you're
not up on your Indian customs, has always
been regarded by the Navajos as the means
by which unmarried braves get better
acquainted with unmarried Indian gals.
With a view of matrimony, of course. And
equally old as the dance itself i£ the cus-
tom of a brave presenting his dancing
partner with a small token when the red-
skin gets tired and wants to stop jigging.
In recent years, the recognized token has
been a small coin, usually five or ten cents.
Also, in recent years, the Indian gals have
taken to dancing with white visitors as
well as with Indians, the general idea be-
ing that the white spectators are more
generous with their coins. In fact, it is
quite common for the Indian gal to ap-
proach a white onlooker and without any
powwow whatever, take hold of him and
force him into the dance, which he can
only escape by paying the coin token.

Well, right here is where I come in.

I was sitting there, minding my own
business and enjoying the show along with
Jon Hall (He's Kit Carson), Clayton
Moore, Dana Andrews, Lynn Bari, Ray-
mond Hatton, Harold Huber, Ward Bond,
and a number of others in the Kit Carson
cast. And as I was sitting there, over comes
a 250-pound squaw and picks me out for a
dancing partner. Being, as you well know,
a strict disciple of Emily Post, I accept the
invitation and do my best with redskin
dancing partner. She can speak fairly good
English, I discover while I'm shoving her

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I WAS A
DESERTED WIFE

***►

From the depths of a woman's heartbreak and grief
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how she won back the affection and
esteem of the man she adored.

Don't miss "i was a deserted
wife'.' and many other thrilling
stories from life in the new—

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MAGAZINE

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2th

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around and around the bonfire, and she
tries to give me an idea on how to make
my feet behave, but it's no dice so far as
I'm concerned. I can't savvy the Indian
steps and when the jig is up (it lasted half
an hour) I reached into my buckskin suit
for a dime to signify that I don't want to
dance with her no more. But woe is me!
I haven't got a dime! Not even a nickel!
Not even an Indian penny! So on and on
and around and around I go with this 250-
pound Indian belle. I spot Jon Hall hoof-
ing it with another heavyweight. When
we pass he says something like "For Cripes
sake, Smithson, gimme a dime!" I say back
something about "For Cripes sake YOU
give ME a dime." And the Indians keep-
ing right on chanting and the drums keep
beating and Jon and me keep right on
dancing. Three hours of it, Miss Editor.
And do you suppose those guys sitting on
the side lines would help Jon and me out
of our predicament? Not on your life.
They just sat there, grinned and applauded
as we went by 'em and let us suffer. Di-
rector George Seitz finally had pity on us
and bought our freedom for two bits each.
Well, Jon and I went back the second and
third night, but we kept ourselves locked
up in a car and no Indian maiden got a
chance to put the dancing bee on us. Hon-
est, I was so tired the morning following
that shindig that I couldn't do any scout-
ing with Kit Carson and had to beg off
from work!

I forgot to tell you that the squaw I
danced with said she had added an English
name to her Indian one. Ann Sheridan,
she said she was!

| So far as my work the next day and
the five days that followed are con-
cerned, about all I did was to trail behind
Kit Carson while he was hot after a band
of Navajos. I wore out two pairs of mocca-
sins, my patience and all hankering for life
on the wide open spaces. I got myself on
the hurricane deck of a pinto pony, and got
saddle sores, and once, during an Indian
battle I got my hair parted by an arrow.
This latter mishap was a slight miscue on
the part of Mud-On-The-Feet, a big buck
who'd been to Flagstaff the day before and
got himself mixed up with a pint of fire-
water and so wasn't quite as steady with
his bow and arrow as he should have been.
As a matter of record, I wasn't quite as
steady as I should have been after that,
either. As a sort of reward for not mak-
ing a fuss about the near-accident old
Mud-On-The-Feet insisted on switching
ponies for the rest of the day, which was
a nice gesture of friendship on his part.
The only trouble his pony wasn't in on the
deal and when I climbed aboard and rode
off to take part in a chase across the des-
ert the pony suddenly decided to stop —
and let me tell you when an Indian pony
decides to stop— he STOPS. Me? Well, I
was off the nag, high in the air, and flat on
my back in less time than you can sing
the first note of the Indian Love Song with
variations. Mud-On-The-Feet's hoss and
your humble servant parted company for
good right then and there. I guess I ain't
no Rider of the Purple Sage. Anyways, I
re-boarded my own scrawny little pinto

and from then on took my scouting assign-
ments as easy as I could.

| Do you know that Flagstaff missed
being the world's motion picture cap-
ital just because, back in 1913, a rainstorm
darkened the skies when Director Cecil B.
DeMille landed there with Dustin Farnum
and other actors to make The Squaw Man?
DeMille, who was in business with Jesse
L. Lasky and Samuel Goldwyn, left New
York for Flagstaff to film the picture. But
he was discouraged by the rainstorm and
ordered his whole troupe back onto the
train, determined to keep going until he
found a place where the sun was shining.

The sun didn't shine until he reached
Los Angeles, which also happened to be
the end of the line. The next day DeMille,
looking for a base of operations, found a
barn in an orange grove suburb of Los
Angeles known as Hollywood. The barn
became the west's first studio and the
suburb of Hollywood became the glamour
city of the world. And that's what a rain-
storm did to Flagstaff, Arizona!

| Citizens of Kayenta got quite a kick
out of the telephone conversations that
went on between Jon Hall and his lovely
wife, Frances Langford, noted radio singer.
The reason was that the longest single tele-
phone in the United States stretches from
Kayenta to Flagstaff and the subscribers
could listen in to every conversation car-
ried on over the single wire.

The "listening-in" affair reached a com-
ical climax the night Jon told his wife that
he was suffering from a slight cold and
asked her to send him a remedy from his
home medicine chest. The next day he
received six letters from subscribers along
the line, each suggesting remedies they
considered far superior to anything else
obtainable, considering Kayenta's climate
and altitude of 7,000 feet.

| They used to say, back in Missouri and
thereabouts, that no good would ever
come of young Kit Carson. Yet here we
find Edward Small turning out the story
of the young man's eventful life. And be-
lieve me, it was eventful. Especially up
around Kayenta and Flagstaff, where Car-
son used to battle Indians and forge trails

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Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4+h- 1 2th

to aid American civilization pursue its
westward march.

But before his work as an Indian scout
reached any degree of prominence, young
Carson had been apprenticed to a saddle
maker in Missouri. Apparently Carson
did not relish his work, and as proof of
same we submit the following legal docu-
ment dug up by Small's research depart-
ment:

NOTICE: To Whom it May Con-
cern: That Christopher Carson, a
boy about sixteen years old, small
of his age, but thickset, light hair,
ran away from the subscriber, living
in Franklin, Howard County, Mo.,
to whom he had been bound to learn
the saddler's trade, on or about the
first day of September last. He is
supposed to have made his way
toward the upper part of the state.
All persons are notified not to harbor,
support, or subsist said boy under
penalty of the law. One cent re-
ward will be given to any person who
will bring back the said boy.

(Signed) David Workman.
Franklin, October 6, 1826.

It is a matter of history that young Car-
son, when he fled from his position as an
apprentice, lost no time in scramming
straight for the Injun country in the West,
where he engaged for the next few years
in trapping and keeping himself free from
the famous Redskin Scalp Treatment.

9 News of the coming of the Kit Carson
troupe spread like wildfire throughout
the reservation and in no time members
of the tribe were nocking into Kayenta on
horseback, muleback and on foot. Work-
ing through four Navajo interpreters, ap-
proved by the council of elders, Director
Seitz employed the Indians on a "first
come first served" basis. They were hired
at the rate of three dollars a day, plus food
— and believe me, the white man's food
made a big hit. After each meal, scores
of Indians would assemble outside the
kitchen in the rear of the mess hall. Here
surplus food was given to all who wanted
it— and all of them wanted it! Many who
were on the pay roll would eat all they
could at the tables within the mess halls,
then go to the kitchen door and take vic-
tuals to their mud huts.

I got a big laugh out of this surplus food
disposal routine. The Indians, being un-
acquainted with the various dishes, pulled
off some mighty screwball stunts. For in-
stance, there was custard pie. I saw an
old buck pick up a slice, put it between
two pieces of bread, and thoroughly enjoy
the most novel sandwich ever concocted.
When the cook came out with a panful of
little pig sausages, imagine my surprise
and amusement when the Indians stuck
them in their mouths and tried to light
them, thinking they were cigars!

Indians, like other Americans, are en-
titled to relief from Federal funds, if they
need it, although not all Indians who really

need relief are aware of the fact. When
the Kit Carson company arrived at Kay-
enta there were 124 Indians on the local
relief rolls. A week later the number, for
the first time in years, was reduced to ap-
proximately twenty because of the work
afforded in the picture. The tribe was so
thankful for the unexpected work that
they took Jon Hall, Lynn Bari, Raymond
Hatton, and Clayton Moore into the tribe.

They didn't ask me to be an Indian, but
I did take a chance on a blanket, and won
it, and will be glad to send it on to you
with no reservations (and I don't mean
Indian!) in case you think you can use it.
Lynn Bari also won a blanket but plans
on hanging it up in her hubby's den.

As for Kit Carson, you don't need to ex-
ercise any critical qualms about it. The
picture's going to be a ripper-dipper with
plenty of emphasis on action. It's a super-
colossal western and better than a snort
of my favorite remedy, Kickapoo Indian
Sagwaw, to drive dull care away.

I don't know about working next month.
Central Casting is having strike trouble
and unless it's ironed out quickly a lot of
us extras are going to be biting our fin-
gernails instead of beefsteak. But I'm not
worrying much. I've got enough wam-
pum cached away to take care of me for
a while, and maybe when I'm through
celebrating I won't care whether I work
or not.

If the strike keeps up I'll ask Walt Dis-
ney if he uses extras in his animated
cartoons!

YOUNG AS I AM
I'VE LEARNED

I HAVE TO GUARD

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By EDGAR SOUTHP A UG H

CHASES

THE

STARS

I During the pause
that refreshes
let's take the case
history of the young
man known as Dave
Kovar.

Less than a year
ago this slim, nervy,
23 -year- old was em-
ployed as a parking
lot attendant near
Hollywood Boule-
vard. He was so ex-
pert at his job of
mayhem that if you gave him an
inch between two cars he'd take a
fender! And - quicker than you
could take offence!

He was so good in his chosen
profession that attendants from
nearby parking lots would sneak
a visit to Dave's home grounds,
and stand around bug-eyed with
admiration while the master of
them all showed them how easy it
was to make three perfect dents in
a car where only one grew before.
Dave was such a genius at parking
that he got to signing his name on
the charge slips as Dave Kovar,
M. D., (Maestro of Dents!)

Dave speaks of his skill in that
deprecatory tone of voice so com-

Something about, the adventures of a
process server who chases the stars
all over Hollywood for his living

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2th

mon among clever craftsmen. "It was a
gift," he says modestly, but withal proudly.
"But I guess anyone could get the knick
of it with a little practice."

The use of the past tense in the above
quote is entirely correct. Because David
doesn't "park" there any more! For a
year he took his bumps where he found
them and then went on to bigger and
better things. David is now known as
the worst chaser in town! Worst, that is, if
you care to take the word of the movie
stars whom he diligently pursues far, far
into the night. The best chaser, if you
have faith in the word of scores of lawyers
in Los Angeles and Hollywood.

David is a process server, now, and so
good at getting his man — or woman —
that lawyers in cities as far north as San
Francisco employ him.

Now Dave didn't jump out of the frying
pan of car-bumping into the fire of pro-
cess-serving without giving the change
lengthy consideration. Not Dave. He's
too cagey for that. But in all likelihood
he'd still be bumping them around save
for the talks he used to have with the
brother of his girl friend. This brother,
now a full-fledged lawyer — and a good
one — was once upon a time a process
server himself, and the tales he used to
tell Dave were thrillers.

"Car parking," says Dave, "got to be
pretty prosaic stuff compared to what I'd
hear about process serving. It sounded
adventurous for one thing, and, for an-
other, the pay was good. Always, in the
back of my head, had been an idea that
some day I would be an investigator. First
for a group of lawyers and then maybe
for the government. Process serving was
the first step in training for my future
job. So I quit parking cars. Just like that."

| Now a process server, just in case you
haven't met up with one of the bold
gentry, is a guy who walks up to you
unexpectedly, shoves a legal-looking
document into your hand or smacks it
into your astonished puss and presto, right
away you find yourself compelled to go
to court and tell it to the judge.

Dave's speciality is serving them thar
papers on movie folk who, for one reason
or another, have run afoul of the law;
and since they happen to be harder to
find than a needle in a haystack when
they have a hunch that a process server
is lurking in the offing, Dave knocks off
anywhere from $2.50 to $50.00 a paper,
this wide range in price being determined
on what Dave describes as "the-time-it-
takes-me-to-find-'em" basis.

"People avoid process servers like they
do insurance salesmen and tax collectors
— only more so," Dave says. "This is
particularly true of movie stars who dread
taking time out from picture making to
go to court to settle legal differences.
They certainly know how to devise ways
and means to give me the well-known
run- around— but I get 'em in the end.
Take my game of hide-and-seek played
with Irene Castle."

This service Dave regards as the tough-
est he's had so far and he talks about it
with a' deal of pardonable pride.

"Along about Christmas time last year

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58 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, N. Y,

NEXT MONTH

Don't miss the fascinating story of Hollywood's newest fad, introduced by
Ida Lupino whose pretty face makes one of the most attractive covers we
have had this year. In the November issue you will also find our favorite
extra's hilarious story of his association with a bankrupt circus in Road Show,
and dozens of other funny and factual stories about your favorite stars.
November HOLLYWOOD ... on the stands October 10

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MOTHER!

IT'S "CRIMINAL"

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Shirley Temple went visiting the other day, and Gloria Jean entertained her distin-
guished guest by getting out her looms for Indian bead-work and showing Shirley-
how to make a belt. Shirley's last picture, before her temporary retirement from the
screen, is Young People. Gloria Jean is seen currently in A Little Bit of Heaven.
She completed her intricate bead belt dnring waits between scenes at the studio

I got a paper to serve on Irene who was
then working at the RKO studios as a
technical advisor on the Castle picture.
Some woman, claiming that Irene had
slandered her was bringing suit, and the
plaintiff's lawyer said that the paper had
to be served at once or not at all since
Irene might finish up her work at the
studio and leave town. There was a good
bonus in it for me, if I succeeded, so I
got busy.

"First off, I had to find some way of
entering the studio sort of unsight unseen
because I knew, from past experiences,
that if anyone employed by the studio
knew what I was up to I'd get bounced
out on my ear. I'd already learned that
the boys inside those studio gates think
it's always open season on process servers.

"Well, I knew it would be mighty fool-
ish to tell anyone what my business was.
I didn't have a pass, of course, and I
didn't know a soul inside, and if I had
it wouldn't have helped any. So, when
the time came for me to do a little gate
crashing I was a bit worried. After driv-
ing around the studio three or four times
to sort of "case" it, as the burglars say,
I found a spot to park my car near one
of the main gates. I sat there for about
fifteen minutes trying to figure out a way
to get in. And then, all of a sudden I had
it! Every so often workmen would go in
carrying lumber so I took off my hat and
coat, climbed out of the car, went down
to where the lumber truck was, grabbed
myself a stick of timber, balanced it on
my shoulder — and walked in as easy as
you please! I followed the guy ahead of
me. After I'd gotten rid of the lumber I
asked this guy where Irene Castle's office
was. He said something about did I want
to learn how to dance and I said no, I just
wanted to get her autograph. On the way
out he pointed to a row of buildings and

said Irene was in the third one from the
left. So I ducked this guy and went over
as directed and opened up the door and
walked in. A nice-looking secretary asked
me what I wanted and I said I wanted
to take some photographs of Miss Castle
and she said, 'Yeah, where's your camera?'
and I said it was in the car. Well, I stood
there jabbering about something I knew
nothing about and finally the secretary
said she was interested in having some
photographs made and what was the
price? Seven dollars a dozen I told her
and nothing would do but she had to give
me the money to cinch the deal. She was
quite surprised when I told her that I
couldn't take any money until I delivered
the pictures. Every once in a while, during
our talk about photography (of which
Dave says he knows absolutely nothing)
I kept asking about Miss Castle and just
when I was about ready to give up, in she
comes. I recognized her from the pictures
of herself she had hung up on the walls.
Then I walked up to her, asked if she was
Irene Castle and gave her the paper.
And right away things began to happen.

"Both ladies called for help and I made
a bolt for the door — and I don't mean an
iron one, either! I hit the alley like
Man 'O War leaving the barrier, ducked
a swarm of excited workers converging
toward the Castle office, ran through a
vacant sound stage, hid behind some old
props and half an hour later, when the
excitement of the hunt had simmered
down, managed to get back to my car."

But that isn't the whole story. Not by
a long shot!

A week later Dave had to serve Irene
with another paper connected with the
same case. And at the studio! And in a
hurry! A deposition it was, to compel
Irene to appear at once in the office of
the plaintiff's lawyer.

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"I fooled the cop at the main gate,"
Dave reveals, "by going in dressed up as
an actor. I passed a lot of people but no
one recognized me with the make-up on
my face. I asked some guy where the
Castle set was. "They're out on location,'
this guy barked at me. 'Grab that bus
over there and make it snappy!' So I
made it snappy and got on. I didn't know
where location was, but that didn't matter
so long as I found Miss Castle. We finally
stopped in front of a swanky home in the
Bel Air district and I got off and sat down
near the script girl hoping that I'd escape
notice. When the director spotted me,
I told him the studio had sent me out to
work in the picture. He said something
about somebody being screwy and told
me to beat it back to the bus. Which was
okay by me because the script girl had
informed me that Miss Castle was at the
studio. Well, it wasn't long before I
walked into the Castle office. Pretty soon
she comes in and I say: 'Miss Castle?'
and hand her the paper. She recognizes
me right away. And that time I didn't
move fast enough, and pretty soon I was in
the office of the Big Boss. He was swell.
He laughed when I told him how I got in
the first two times. Finally he asked me
if I thought I could enter the joint again.
'Listen, Mister,' I told him, 'You invite
me for lunch in your commissary at
twelve-thirty tomorrow and I'll guarantee
to be there on the dot.' Even Miss Castle
had to laugh at that one. But no foolin',
I'd have been there, only they didn't ask
me."

■ Dave thought he had easy money in
sight when he got a paper to serve
on Francis Lederer, but he changed his
mind after playing hide-and-seek with
the famous star for more than a week.
According to the paper, Francis had
neglected to pay his agent the customary
ten per cent for some time and the agent
wanted to know why. Through the courts,
of course. He not only wanted to know
why, but he was determined to collect.

Francis lives high up in the mountain
area of Conejo Park and as a preliminary
to his main assault Dave drove up there
to get the lay of the land. He drove up
again the next morning and the next and
the next without getting a nibble. In-
quiry among the neighboring cliff dwell-
ers revealed the fact that the star might
possibly be at his other home located on
an adjoining hill -top.

"I drove up along a narrow, one-way
road that led to the house," says Dave,
the demon process server, "arrived about
five in the afternoon and knocked on the
door. 'No,' said the secretary, 'Mr.
Lederer isn't at home. He is in the city
and won't be back until the following day.
What did I want to see him for?' I an-
swered that one by saying that I had
organized a boy's club and wanted Mr.
Lederer to be guest speaker at our next
meeting. When the secretary took down
my name, I glanced over toward the
garage, the doors of which were partly
closed. I recognized the actor's yellow
speedster. All I needed from then on was
a little patience and I had plenty of that.
Telling the girl I'd be back in a few days

for the actor's answer to my request, I
got in my car and drove away — but not
more than a quarter of a mile. I pulled
over into a small orange grove that came
up to the road and there I remained until
I saw a figure cross from the house and
enter the garage. Pretty soon I heard
the roar of a motor, and then the yellow
speedster backed out and made a quick
turn out into the road.

So I just released my brakes, coasted
into the middle of the road, and waited.
I had him! I had the paper, too, and
dropped it into his lap with a 'Good
evening, Mr. Lederer.' He never batted
an eye. Just smiled and took it. He's a
swell guy. Whenever he sees me on the
Boulevard he shakes my hand and wants
to know how the town's worse chaser is."

[ Dave's most amusing experience
centers around the time when he
knocked on the door of a movie execu-
tive's home (we can't give you his name) ,
was invited in, and, after sticking around
until six-thirty was invited to dinner by
the executive's lovely wife.

"It was kinda embarrassing," admits
Dave, "but what could I do? I was
hungry, the executive was still at the
studio, the food looked extra good, and
the wife was so kind and pleasant. She
was curious, of course, as to the nature
of my visit, but didn't pester me any
after I'd convinced her that I had to give
her husband a very secret message from
another studio. Well, finally dessert ar-
rived—and with it, the husband, and he
certainly was surprised when he saw me
sitting there at his table. 'Who is this
man?' he asked his wife. 'What's he doing
here?' That's about the time I got up,
took the paper from my inside coat
pocket and handed it to him. Boy, was
he mad! Then his wife began to laugh
at the deception I had played on her.
Then he saw the joke of it and pretty
soon we were all laughing."

| Dave served Glenn Morris, the Olym-
pic champion, by pretending that he
wanted an autograph of the renowned
athlete. Glenn was having divorce trouble,
and the paper was concerned with that.

"I got a picture of him," reveals Dave,
"and went down to the Athletic Club
where he lived. He seemed quite pleased
to think I wanted his autograph, but, boy,
was he mad when, after he'd signed the
photograph, I paid him back by handing
him the paper! I thought at first he was
going to beat me up, but he managed to
cool off. He said it wasn't the paper so
much, as the way I'd fooled him, that had
made him so angry. I see him frequently on
the Boulevard and he never fails to ask
me if I want his autograph again."

| Some of these days, Dave opines in
a gloomy, prophetic voice, he's not
going to be as lucky as he's been hereto-
fore. A movie star is going to take a shot
at the town's best process server — and it
won't be a "process" shot, either!

"The luck can't always be on my side,"
he insists. "And if I ever do get bounced
around, I'll do some bouncing myself.
I'll go back to backing cars again."

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They Knew What They Wanted

[Continued from page 25]

schoolgirl, and the most persistent auto-
graph-hunter in town.

The wine country is some fifty miles
north of San Francisco, far enough away to
be beyond the influence of metropolitan
sophistication. The arrival of the RKO
movie troupe was accordingly one of the
big events of the area's history. The Napa
Daily Register covered the company's rou-
tine activities blow-by-blowr as if they
had been a blitzkrieg or a heavyweight
championship fight.

The winegrowers and vintners of Napa
— there are two huge wineries and a dis-
tillery in town — were particularly puffed
up by the indirect advertising given their
product by the glittering personalities of
Hollywood. Mr. Clark Gable was in and
out of town periodically visiting Miss
Lombard and sometimes ferrying her back
to Hollywood for rest and wardrobe re-
plenishment.

The Plaza Hotel's fifty rooms were taken
on a term lease for the use of the tech-
nical crew. The matter of housing the
players was not so simple. Napa is in the
neighborhood of the Mare Island Navy
Yard, where activity has doubled in the
past few months. Naval officers and their
wives have snapped up most of the habit-
able dwellings in the vicinity, so Director
Kanin and the stars and featured players
had to range as far away as St. Helena to
find suitable quarters.

Miss Lombard found accommodations
with one of St. Helena's leading families,
who entertained her like visiting royalty.
On the evening of her third days' work
she noticed that the upstairs and down-
stairs maids in her temporary home were
not the same ones who had attended her
en the second day. Then she recalled that
the maids on the second day were not the
same as those on the first.

Eventually it leaked out that a clique of
the town's debutantes had drawn lots for
the privilege of performing menial tasks
for Carole Lombard in order to get inti-
mate first-hand glimpses of a Hollywood
star in the flesh, and to provide themselves
with conversational, fuel for the winter.

■ Miss Lombard in the wine belt proved
little different from Miss Lombard on
her home territory in Hollywood. Except
during actual filming, she proved one of
the busiest little gag-women at large.

Director Kanin, as most people realize
by now, is something of a boy -phenome-
non. At twenty-seven he is directing his
sixth picture, all of them notably success-
ful. A bit wearied of all the boy-wonder
publicity Garson has been receiving, Miss
Lombard bought him a Boy Scout suit,
complete with accouterments and insig-
nia. Like the good sport he is, the director
wore the thing during an entire day's
shooting, causing passersby to wonder if
the proceedings were possibly an outing
of madhouse trusties.

Another of Carole's diversions was a
long-range squirt gun, capable of shoot-
ing a stinging jet of water thirty feet. No-
body in the company escaped getting
doused with this cute little number at one
time or another. When the water-pistol
palled, Carole was bouncing around with
her two-buck camera, taking shots of any-
body who would stand still. She achieves
amazingly good results with her drug-
store lens.

■ The Lombard part in They Knew
What They Wanted is that of a wait-
ress who gets married via a matrimonial
ad. The destruction of crockery, linens
and costumes entailed in teaching La
Petite Carole how to juggle a tray was
something that still causes the cost ac-
countants to shudder.

The spot selected to represent Laugh-
ton's ranch is the Fagiani vineyard, one
of the show-places of the Napa Valley
and typical of the best vineyards in the
wine country. The only trouble with it,
from the cinematic point of view, was that
it did not match the script. Neither did
any other ranch in the locality.

So, with characteristic Hollywood
initiative, the RKO technicians applied
make-up to the terrain so that it would
conform to photographic requirements
and also bear an exact likeness to the
ranch described by Sidney Howard.

Seme extensive camouflage of the exist-
ing buildings was required, and new con-
struction proceeded on the scale of army
cantonments going up in wartime. When
finally dressed up for its camera debut,
the rancho consisted of a main ranch
house altered in many respects from its
original design; a cluster of tenant houses,
a blacksmith shop, a winery, a bell tower,
a barn decorated with deer horns, and a
huge yard.

Trees are plentiful in the script. Trees
were not plentiful on the Fagiani Ranch.
So trees in great numbers were dug up in
the mountains of the coastal range, hauled
fifty miles and transplanted at strategic
points on the Laughton estate.

Tony's ranch, as it existed before the
arrival of Kanin & Co., was devoted al-
most entirely to grape culture. Vines were
everywhere. But the story demanded a
gravel road where vines had been planted.
So hundreds of the plants had to be dug
up — at $20 per dig — and stuck somewhere
else.

One of the big sock scenes in the
script is a huge Italian fiesta held in

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Sabu, little East Indian boy, is studying his lessons against the spectacular back-
ground of the Grand Canyon with a teacher from the Los Angeles Public Schools,
Austin Menzies. Sabu travelled half way around the world to appear in the
Alexander Korda's Technicolor production, The Thief of Bagdad

the ranch courtyard. Laughton, as pro-
prietor, plays host to the whole country-
side and there is wine, dancing and as-
sorted fun.

When the casting of a thoroughly Eng-
lish actor as an Italian-American farmer
was announced, Hollywood let out a
concerted gasp. Yet Laughton has turned
out to be a singularly shrewd choice. He
knows Italian dialect as well as any actor
alive. For many years he spent his vaca-
tions in the wine countries of Europe — -
Italy, Spain, France and Portugal — and
speaks the languages of all four. His ear
is so delicately attuned that he can even
identify the dozens of local dialects in use
between the Adriatic and Bay of Biscay.

In the fiesta scene Laughton is required
to sing an Italian song and rollick around
in a community folk dance. The song was
specially written for him by Nunzio
Triangali, a barber on the RKO lot who
has been knocking out lyrics for years
and made no progress soever until the
perfect spot for one of his compositions
opened up in the present script.

Early in the shooting schedule Mr.
Laughton showed some signs of taking on
a dash of Latin temperament along with
his Italian make-up and dialect. There
were some tense moments when he
stopped dead in the middle of important
scenes.

"I don't feel it," he would complain. "I'm
not being the essential Tony."

At other times he would hold up the
shooting to comment on the director's
youth and inexperience. But as soon as
Kanin had demonstrated to him who was
boss around the joint, the relationship
smoothed out. During the last ten days
of the sojourn in the wine belt the Eng-
lishman was a model of tractability and
good humor, even when camera exigen-
cies made it necessary for him to go
through the same set of motions fifty
times under a broiling sun.

In ro <ters not likely to affect the qual-

ity or intent of his picture, Director Kanin
was a lenient taskmaster and the butt of
many good-natured ribs.

Shortly before starting They Knew
What They Wanted, the young director
was elected secretary of the Screen Direc-
tors' Guild. This is no mean honor for a
kid who has been in town only two years,
since the guild is the governing body of
the whole directing craft.

But to some other guild member, Presi-
dent Frank Capra by report, Kanin's ele-
vation to high office had a certain element
of comedy. At any rate, every day since
his installation in office he has received
an unsigned telegram with the text:

HEY, SECRETARY, TAKE A LETTER.

Midway through the shooting schedule
Garson was booked to appear on the Bing
Crosby radio program. A reformed saxo-
phonist, he volunteered to perform a sax
solo that would be no worse than Jack
Benny's fiddling.

As the day of the radio appearance ap-
proached, Kanin lugged a borrowed sax
onto the set every day with the idea of
getting in a little practice tootling during
the luncheon break. The minute he'd get
the reed in his mouth and let out a few
cample bleats, he would be distracted by
extras, electricians, and miscellaneous
company members strolling about non-
chalantly before him sucking on lemons.

This caused a sympathetic flood of gas-
tric juices, soured up Kanin's notes and
discouraged him with the whole project.
The instigator of this characteristic bit of
sadism was, of course, Carole Lombard,
the girl who never grew up.

They Knew What They Wanted has
plenty of hilarity in its background. But
the good folk of Napa will never think
lightly of a troupe of show people who
worked a full day in the movie vineyards,
knocked themselves out in the evening
appearing at a local benefit, and were
back on the job at 3:30 a. m. to do a sun-
rise shot on "Tony" Laughton's ranch.

says

Maureen O'Hara

starring in"DANCE,GIRL,DANCE"
an RKO Radio Production

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Escape

[Continued from page 23]

its military collar — was stunning enough.
But the lassie with us whispered excitedly,
"See! It's a new trend! Adrian is bringing
back the cape!" We were in the midst of
an authentic style scoop, and didn't know
it. The illustration on this page will give
you an idea of what we mean. And how
do you like Norma's new hair-do? She
parts it in the center and wears it with
two loose knots in the back. Bee-youtiful,
we say.

Escape, as you probably know, is the
famous Ethel Vance best seller in which
M-G-M is presenting Miss Shearer with
Robert Taylor as co-star and a distin-
guished cast headed by Nazimova, Conrad
Veidt, Felix Bressart, Bonita Granville
and Blanche Yurka. Mervyn LeRoy,
that perennial boy-wonder of the cinema,
is in charge of the works.

Although Miss Vance's novel naturally
bears angry anti-Nazi sentiments, the stu-
dio is concentrating on the romantic and
thrilling aspects of the plot. The romance
between the Countess and young Mark
Preysing (Robert Taylor) will be given
more prominence in the screen version.

The main plot of Escape, however — the
melodramatic and spine-tingling efforts of
Emmy Ritter's son, Mark, and his friends
to rescue the great actress from a concen-
tration camp, remains just as thrilling as
it was in the book.

Emmy Ritter, you see, was known as a
great American actress, in spite of her
German birth. Of recent years her home
in New York had become a haven for
refugees, all of whom she welcomed with
open arms. She made the fatal mistake of

returning to Germany to dispose of her
property — eventually managing to smug-
gle the money out of the country. The
Nazis no like — not for one minute. Emmy
is thrown in the pokey and sentenced to
hasty execution.

Before they have a chance to chop her
head off, however, she gets appendicitis
and has to have an operation. It is while
she is lying between life and death, be-
friended only by the young doctor who
performed the operation, that her son,
Mark, arrives, searching for her. When
his efforts to battle official Nazidom finally
fail, he enlists the terrified aid of the
American-born Countess, whom he had
met romantically in New York.

In the role of Emmy Ritter, the great
Alia Nazimova is making her "talkie"
debut. The "talkie" should tip you off —
Nazimova is known to movie fans of an
earlier generation. She quit before the
silver screen had a chance to talk back.
Not that it mattered — the lady has starred
with great success in Ibsen dramas all
across the country for the past decade.

Nazimova giggles when she tells of her
first day's work in pictures after all these
years. "I knew what was going to hap-
pen," she told us, "but it was still a shock.
They take me and put me in a coffin and
nail the lid down!"

It was a very nice coffin, however — all
done up for Nazimova — with extra heavy
shoulder pads. And — of all things — a head
rest, rather like the ones you see on bar-
ber chairs. Madame Nazimova didn't mind.
"After all, Robert Taylor had to carry me
to the coffin," she smiled. "Think how

Norma Shearer, in the dramatic cape which is expected to set a new vogue, meets
Philip Dom who plays an important role in Escape. In the background, Robert
Taylor and producer-director Mervyn LeRoy look with admiration at her hair-do

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many women would want the same ex-
perience!"

The interviewer interrupted to tell Na-
zimova that the great Sarah Bernhardt
used a coffin as a bed for many years. Mme.
Nazimova's fragile body shook with
laughter. "I went to sleep in mine, too, one
night at the studio. But I do not like cof-
fins for all the time."

The M-G-M grapevine insists that Na-
zimova will give a spectacular perform-
ance in Escape.

gj "I am a lucky woman," she says, seri-
ously, "to return to the screen in such
a good part. I've had other offers, of course.
This studio wanted me to play Madame
de Farge in A Tale of Two Cities. I was
interested until they tell me that I am to
have a knock-down fight with Miss Edna
May Oliver. I mentally compare my size
with that of Miss Oliver and I say, 'Oh!
No!' " (Nazimova is slightly over five feet
tall and a bit over one hundred pounds.)

"So I say to them, you should get a tall
woman for that part. Why not try Blanche
Yurka, that great woman, who would be
wonderful? And they did, and she was.

"Yurka plays my prison nurse in Escape,
you know. And she is so wonderful, that
one. As long as I'm helpless in bed, I won't
have to wrestle with her!"

Also in this same prison sequence is a
young actor that the studio thinks will
prove to be a hit. Just because we didn't
know an Adrian style scoop when we face
it, we'll tip you off to this one.

Philip Dorn is his name. In his native
Holland, a few short years ago, he was
known as the Clark Gable of the Nether-
lands. He played all of the typical Gable
movie roles on the stage. You know — Men
in White and Idiot's Delight. He was
brought to this country some time ago by
Joe Pasternak, the Universal producer
who discovered Deanna Durbin and Gloria
Jean. He was told to sit back in some
cool dark spot and improve his English (it
wasn't very bad when he arrived) . So sit
he did— and inside of six months his Eng-
lish was flawless. His screen debut was in
Ski Patrol, and although the picture did
not set box office fires, he made a personal
hit.

S Negotiations to borrow him from Uni-
versal proving unsuccessful M-G-M
promptly pulled strings and bought his
contract. And they have important plans
for him. Dorn's no Arrow collar ad, but
he has a lot of masculine oomph. Bet you'll
like him.

In the role of the sinister General is the
distinguished continental actor, Conrad
Veidt. A star these many years (he was
in the famous Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) ,
Veidt is a stunning figure in his uniforms.

Robert Taylor still has the moustache so
many girls think attractive. His Escape
role should do a great deal to further his
growing reputation as an actor of real
ability. Personally, we're glad that his stu-
dio has given up its strenuous campaign
to put him over as a junior edition of Wally
Beery in the he-man roles. He's much
more suited to sensitive, dramatic roles
such as the one he had in Waterloo Bridge
and in Escape.

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The Hazards of Home

[Continued from page 32]

same, she began to like being an inde-
pendent, householder. In spite of every-
thing— and everything certainly happened.

To start at the beginning, it's a putty-
colored stucco house, a two-story affair,
with brown half-timbering on it. There's
a good, big yard full of flowers. The
neighbors' houses are not near enough to
bother, but not so far that you can't yell
to them if yelling seems indicated.

In this house, which is rather small
and simple, Olivia has a maid, Alma —
a Swiss. When you say Olivia lives alone,
you mean alone with Alma — and with the
full responsibility of the house on Olivia's
shoulders.

Alma, whose cooking is magnificent,
watches over Livy like a hawk, and is
always complaining about not having
enough to do. Just to show you: every
week Alma washes the windows and re-
arranges the cellar. But if the weather
report predicts fair for tomorrow, and
Livy plans to go on a picnic, then nothing
on earth could induce Alma to wash the
windows. If she did, sure as a gun, it
would pour. Alma has become actually
superstitious about it . . . and she's got
Livy believing it, too.

Well, everything was going along per-
fectly dandy until Olivia heard two wild
geese in the attic. Day and night, they
honked and roared. Olivia didn't know
how they got in, and couldn't imagine
how to get them out, so she called the
exterminator man.

The exterminator man said it wasn't
geese at all. It was the largest swarm of
bees west of the Mississippi, not only
making a horrible noise, but making
honey, too. There was honeycomb all
through one side of the house, probably
a couple of hundred pounds of it, the man
said. Goodness knew how much it would
cost to take it out. Meanwhile, Olivia is
toying with the idea of using a gimlet
on the dining room wall, and getting a
fountain of honey for her breakfast
waffles.

Despite the zizzy little bumbles, how-
ever, Olivia by now had grown enthu-
siastic about living by herself. Why? It's
so good for the nerves, she says.

"In a business like acting," she ex-
plained, "that calls for such emotional
strain — you have to have privacy. You
have to be alone a lot. At least, I do.
Until I was alone, I didn't realize that.
The only trouble is, you're likely to grow
introspective. Unless something like bees
occurs. You wouldn't have time to grow
introspective in that house of mine!

"Naturally, I don't think all girls should
leave home at the age of twenty-one. But
I know that living alone is a wonderful
thing for me. Not that I'm very domestic,
either. Well, I used to arrange the flowers.
But Alma is so much better at it. . . ."

Olivia continued with a glow of pride.
"Still, I do my own bookkeeping. And
write the checks. And order the meals.
I telephone to Alma every noon about the

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Arizona, for the filming of Arizona. Here they are with a couple of new hahies

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2th

menu for dinner — if I don't forget it.
When I forget, we alwaysrhave bacon and
eggs."

gg Though Olivia is as much good around
a cookstove as a rosebud around a
steam roller, she and Alma entered into a
conspiracy about desserts. "We're experts
on the desserts men like," Olivia bragged.
'We've done deep research on the subject.
We craftily find out — for there's a streak
of secret service in me — what dessert is
preferred by tonight's dinner guest, and
then we flash it on him. Naturally, he's
stunned. Men are fussier about desserts
than women are. Men pick and choose
more."

She added that her research proved pie
or cake to be a man's favorite dessert.
If pie, generally apple — "though I've been
haunted by men that clamor for lemon
chiffon." If cake, generally cocoanut.

"For a change, I was suggesting banana
cream cake for a man who was coming to
dinner," Olivia proceeded, "when Alma
began to shake her head. Alma has a
strong streak of secret service, too. 'He
likes cocoanut cake with chocolate ice
cream,' Alma said. I asked how in the
world she knew. 'He used to call on Miss
So-and-so, where I worked,' Alma re-
plied.

"We gave him cocoanut cake with
chocolate ice cream. I think he recog-
nized Alma, though he didn't say any-
thing. But his face was a study when she

put his favorite dessert of yesteryear in
front of him!"

| Things had no more settled down
prettily into a routine — when the
house caught fire. It was entirely due
to Livy's cooking. She admits it. The
one thing Olivia can cook well is a wiener
on a long fork, in the.fireplace. She had
been cooking weiners all by herself in
the upstairs sitting room, and she'd for-
gotten to put the fire screen in front of
the hearth afterward. A spark must have
flicked into the wastebasket.

Anyway, Olivia was reading in bed
when she smelled smoke. Forth she
rushed, and it looked as though the whole
sitting room were ablaze. Olivia tackled
the conflagration without a second
thought; without any thought whatever,
in fact. "It took five bath towels to put
it out," she recalled, "the pink ones, with
the monograms."

H And then the doves took over. Holly-
wood is afflicted with savage gray
doves that begin bellowing at one an-
other among the hills at crack of dawn.
They keep it up for hours. Olivia says
six of them would arrange themselves
symmetrically on the ridge-pole from 5 to
9 a. m. and from 12 to 3 p. m., and coo
like six Great Danes very mad at some-
body. The doves were broken of this
nauseating practice because Olivia cast
her bread upon the waters.

That is to say, she adopted a half grown
kitten. This act of charity was, as a
matter of fact, very much against her
will.

"When a young man brought me home
one evening, we discovered this kitten
yowling on the doorstep. The man in-
sisted that it was an orphan cat, with no
brothers or sisters (if you can imagine
such a thing!) — a poor, little, starved
foundling. So I took it in and fed it and
made it a bed in the kitchen. And it
came upstairs in the middle of the night
and jumped on my face and scared me
half to death.

"I'd just gone to sleep again, when it
screamed to go out. As I prowled down-
stairs and put it out, I realized that it
wasn't a foundling at all, but the cat from
next door. So I didn't let it in again.

"But would that cat take a hint? It
would spring from behind trees. It ran
in front of my car. It got into the car
and waited for me. Really a problem cat.

"One night there was a man on the
roof! A dreadful thud! Yes, you've
guessed it. That cat had started imitat-
ing a man on the roof; that's how far it
went to annoy me. I was reaching for
the phone to call the police, when I re-
alized it was only pussy up to more tricks.
But she scared the doves away, anyhow.
When pussy took to the roof, they left
it."

There were ants, too. The ants wanted
to get to a destination on the other

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side of the house. But would they walk
around it? Oh, no. That would be too
easy. So, ignoring the ant poison spread
among the zinnias for them, they came
under the front door in a wide ribbon,
crossed the living room, went up the
chimney, down the side of the house, and
off to wherever they'd started for. It re-
quired half a day for the parade to pass,
and Olivia thought it was easier to let
them go than to try to interfere.

8 She paused to consider what other
lessons living alone had taught. Well,
she decided, for one thing she*d learned
the wisdom of paying attention to bills.
Not that she ever intended to disregard
them — but there was the time she com-
pletely forgot the telephone company. The
phone was cut off and the studio couldn't
get calls through. Neither could anyone
else. A nice kettle of fish.

B "I learned self-reliance, too," Olivia
observed, "I mean, about my latch-
key. Locking myself out, you know. If
there's anything more devastating than to
realize that your latchkey's on the dresser
in your room, and you're down in the
yard, trying to figure a way. . . ."

At a late hour, Olivia and her escort
came to the front door — and the latch-
key wasn't in Olivia's little white moire
purse. Alma had the evening out;
wouldn't return till considerably later.
The back door, like the front, was se-
curely fastened. What to do, what to do?

"We didn't have a flash, but we went
over the outside of the first floor with a

cigarette lighter. No, not a window open.
And when the windows are down, they
lock with a patent fastener."

Suddenly Olivia remembered the rear
window in her bedroom. It always re-
mained open, to let in the fresh air from
Griffith Park.

From the garage they got a ladder.
The young man set it up and wanted to
mount it. But Olivia demurred. It was
her house. It was her problem. Olivia
insisted on climbing the ladder herself.

She took off her shoes and stockings,
but it proved slow work in her white eve-
ning gown. She got to the top at last,
however. Because of the slope of the
ground and the roof, they hadn't been
able to place the ladder directly beneath
the window. Olivia had to climb on the
roof a little way, and pull herself around
a corner beside the chimney. The young
man kept saying, "Watch yourself!" in a
tense whisper that Olivia felt sure would
rouse the neighborhood. A lovely spec-
tacle she"d be, crawling over the roof in
an evening gown, without stockings or
shoes!

She shushed him, crept round the
chimney corner, and reached for the sill
of that open window. The window was
closed. And locked.

So Olivia climbed down the ladder. She
conferred with her escort. Then they
went back to the front door.

"We couldn't find a rock or anything,"
Olivia said, "but, do you know, he
crashed his fist through the door panel!"
Her voice took on a tinge of awe. "I
knew they did it in the movies — but they

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4+h-l2th

can do it in real life, too! I never was
more surprised. And he mended the door
afterward, with a board from the cellar —
going the movies one better, h'm?"

9 Casting a glance back upon the varied
adventures that have befallen since
she began to live solo, Olivia picked as
her greatest housekeeping triumph that
lunch she cooked. It was a triumph of art
over logic, of intuition over nutrition.
And how.

As has been said, Olivia in the guise
of cook is durn nigh a total loss. But,
newly a householder and managing about
menus and all, Livy couldn't help boasting
a teeny bit. So the highly erroneous re-
port flew through Warner Studio that
Olivia was a chef of chefs. Far be it
from Livy to deny this rumor. She fairly
basked in it.

Came a noontide, though, when Olivia
was hoist by her own petard, if you know
Shakespeare. If you don't, she was
dynamited by her own strawberry short-
cake.

Shortly before noon of this fateful day,
Olivia heard a certain lad sighing for
strawberry shortcake. It may or may not
have been Jimmy Stewart. Olivia didn't
say. '"Come on over for lunch in an hour,
and we'll have some shortcake that'll melt
in your mouth," Livy told him. The
young man accepted instantly. It was all
too obvious that he thought Livy would
make the shortcake out of her own head,
as the saying goes.

Livy rushed home — ten minutes from
the studio — intending to get Alma to whip
up a tasty snack during the long studio
lunch hour. Entering the door with a
clarion call for Alma, she remembered
that the maid had gone marketing and
wouldn't be back till about 12: 45, the time
at which the hungry young man was
scheduled to appear. It looked as though
Livy would really have to make that
shortcake, and God bless us, every one.

At that, Livy had watched Alma make
a shortcake. And once, on Alma's day
out, Livy had been seized with a notion
to attempt some biscuits made with pre-
pared flour — but nothing came of the idea.
But the unopened package of prepared
flour stood on the pantry shelf; the direc-
tions said a child could do 'em, which
encouraged Livy no end. In the re-
frigerator, she found a bowl of straw-
berries. These Livy doused with generous
tablespoonfuls of sugar.

Alma arrived at the back door as the
young man arrived at the front. Livy,
triumphant over the pan of hot biscuits,
was about to find herself in the tritest
situation ever written into a domestic
comedy.

While the biscuits were burning, Livy
had even found time to make a salad.
Into a bed of lettuce she discovered in the
refrigerator, she put everything else that
the refrigerator contained. Cooked carrots
and potatoes, chicken, ham, radishes, a
half bottle of capers, pickled beets, a
saucer of sliced tomatoes, three hard-

boiled eggs that were hanging around . . .
There were additional items, but these
were all Livy could remember. Into the
conglomeration she emptied a whole bottle
of French dressing and, for luck, tossed in
a handful of grated cheese and a dollop of
tomato ketchup.

It was a good thing Livy made that
salad. Because the young man took one
big mouthful of the shortcake and went,
'Awrrgh!" and rushed from the room.
Astounded, Livy delicately thrust a fork
into her own serving. Well! It must
have been flavored from the box of salt!

"But the salad was marvelous," Olivia
concluded snugly, "it was superb! Un-
fortunately, I can never make it again,
for in my frenzy I threw everything into
it without exactly noticing. I think there
was a dash of cucumber, too, and — I'm
almost sure — a little bit of salmon. Good?
We each ate three helpings!"

Olivia sighed. "A lucky thing I didn't
have to work that afternoon. I was ab-
solutely exhausted by that bout with the
cookstove. After my guest left, I took a
book and a wedge of Alma's cocoanut cake,
and curled up in a chair in my room. No-
body to bother me, nobody to disturb the
quiet or sidetrack my train of thought.
Oh, I could change my mind tomorrow, or
next week. But right now — "

Again Olivia sighed. Perfect content-
ment. What's this people say about two
alone being paradise?

"I wouldn't know about that," Olivia
answered, "but one alone is heaven."

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AH the world loves a barbecue when the crisp autumn days arrive. Otto Kruger,
famous for his out-of-door suppers, lets you in on the secrets of brushing steaks
with special sauces before cooking, and his methods of preparing special salads

Hollywood Barbecue

By BETTY CBOCKEU

H If Otto Kruger should
ever call you up and
say, "C'mon over," you'd
know — if you were one of
the Hollywood colony —
that it would be a barbe-
cue supper in his back
yard he had in mind. And
knowing the Krugers,
you'd save up for it all day,
to be sure you brought a
big appetite with you.

The Krugers, Otto and his charming
wife, Sue, and little daughter, Ottilie, al-
ways entertain during the summer with
an outdoor barbecue supper. That's part-
ly because they have such a lovely yard,
one of the most beautiful in all Holly-
wood. The specially built barbecue oven,
where steaks, hamburgers, roasts, and hot
dogs can be grilled to a state of succulent
perfection, is surrounded by Otto's prize
winning flowers. But mostly it's because
Otto himself so enjoys playing the role of
chef.

You don't go "just for dinner," though,
in answer to a Kruger invitation. Or if
you do, you'll make that mistake just once,
and the next time you're asked, you'll go
at least three hours ahead of time. For
dinner is always preceded with beer, or a

cocktail, if you prefer it,
with hors d'oeuvres, and
a great deal of fascinating
conversation.

While the guests are
idling about in the blue
and white canopied lawn
chairs and swings, playing
badminton on the grassy
court, or talking, the vege-
tables for the dinner are
being prepared inside the
house. Otto presides over the barbecue
oven, letting the cook do the rest so that
he can assist Mrs. Kruger with their
guests.

Favored vegetables are string beans,
sliced long and very thin with a sharp
knife; pearled corn — that's corn cut off the
cob after it's been simmered until tender,
and whipped sweet potatoes.

The salad is an enormous bowl of fresh
green vegetables, lettuce, watercress and
endive, with a French dressing containing
flakes of Roquefort cheese. There's also a
plain salad of quartered head lettuce,
freshly chilled, for which the highlight is
a rare, extremely delicious and tantalizing
dressing for which everyone always wants
the recipe. To the Krugers, it's simply
known as "Teddy's Dressing," because

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2th

they had it as a special favor from a Fili-
pino waiter who had it from a Hollywood
chef who had it from a famous French
chef — you know the patter.

And, of course, there's the grilled meat
— steak, wieners, thick lamb chops. Served
to you hot and sizzling from the grill by
Otto Kruger wearing a long white chef's
apron, a tall white chef's hat, and a grin
a yard wide. Otto Kruger brushes steaks
with sauce combining olive oil, garlic and
mustard, before they touch the rack for
those few telling moments. Otto believes
it's a crime to cook steaks beyond the
point where a crispy brown searing over
the outside covers a juicy red rareness
within. Now for some of the recipes to
help you with your own barbecues:

"TEDDY'S DRESSING"

1 cup oil

Vz cup vinegar

1 small onion, grated fine

6 small cloves garlic, minced
Parsley, chopped fine

2 level teaspoons mustard
1 egg, beaten

Salt
Pepper

Makes one pint. Will keep for several
days in icebox, and is really better the
second or third day than when freshly
made. Shake well before serving over
crisp lettuce leaves.

SPECIALLY ARRANGED GARDEN

SALADS

Tossed Salad Served in Bowl

Crisp lettuce leaves

x/2 medium-sized cucumber

(thinly sliced)
6 radishes (thinly sliced)
1 tbsp. chives (finely cut)

3 ripe tomatoes (cut in wedges)
French Dressing.

Prepare, chill and dry vegetables. Pluck
apart crisp, cold, well dried leaves of let-
tuce. Place in salad bowl (previously
rubbed with clove of garlic, if desired).
Add crisp cucumber and radish slices and
chives. Toss gently (with fork and spoon)
in just enough French Dressing to make
the leaves of lettuce glisten. Add tomato
wedges just before serving (to prevent
juice from spreading).

Other Vegetables Can Be Used

Other raw vegetables commonly used in
tossed salads are diced celery, little new
onions, thinly sliced carrots (or thin car-
rot strips) , flowerets of cauliflower, wafer-
thin slices of turnips. Cooked vegetables
commonly used are peas, green beans,
beets, asparagus tips, artichoke hearts,
cauliflower flowerets.

Platter of Salad Greens

Arrange a variety of different salad
greens on a platter: such as curly endive
around the outside, inner leaves of lettuce
next, then watercress sprigs, and in the

center artichoke hearts. Sprinkle sliced
shallots and finely minced St. Mary's herbs
over all. Pass French Dressing separately.

Platter of Contrasting Rows
of Salad Vegetables

Arrange any desired cut-up vegetables
(cold and crisp) in rows across a platter —
with an eye to color and pattern. Or let
the different rows of vegetables radiate
from the center of a chop plate like the
spokes of a wheel. (Tomato slices, cucum-
ber slices, latticed carrots, asparagus
stalks, etc.)

Individual Salads in Lettuce Cups

Prepare and crisp enough lettuce cups
to serve number desired. Fill with any
desired combination of vegetables mixed
with just enough French Dressing to make
glisten. Place on platter or tray and chill
again. Serve on individual salad plates or
pass platter for each guest to serve him-
self.

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% cup shortening

1 cup brown sugar

1 egg

3V4 cups sifted cake flour

or 3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
% tsp. salt
1 tsp. soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
% tsp. ginger
1 cup hot water
1 cup molasses.

Cream the shortening and add the sugar
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Add the hot water to the molasses and add
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quick moderate oven, 375° F.

FREE

Betty Crocker's Barbecue Recipes

You don't need to own an outdoor bar-
becue oven like Otto Kruger's to enjoy
such treats as Betty Crocker's Barbecued
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How To Be the Blight of the Party

[Continued from page 27]

tion might be the dinner party, and the
procedure here is not too complicated.
The "Table Comic," they both agreed,
makes an A-l Blight and requires little
in the way of imagination to counter-
balance the drain on energy. This calls
for various feats of juggling with silver,
glassware and crockery; imitating an am-
bulance siren by rubbing the wet rims
of glasses; playing xylophone solos on
the assembled water glasses of each guest
at the table, and such.

"Kindergarten stuff, really," Mickey
snorted, "but good groundwork, and as
such, of value. The higher forms of
dinner table blighting, however, get into
the deeper channels such as an acute case
of presbyopia which, in Webster's words,
is long-sightedness while near objects are
indistinctly seen, the near object being the
check."

"Or signing the check, only to have the
management refuse to honor it," Judy
said. "That makes the girls so comfort-
able and sets the stage for a fine scram-
bling match among the boys to see where
and how they can dig up the necessary
$8.90 indicated on the check."

"Or deliberately going under-heeled
when it's a Dutch Treat party," Mickey
elaborated. "You know the fellow who
always says: 'Gee, fellows, I find I'm
a little short. How's about loaning me
a couple of bucks till Monday.' He's a
great little Blight, he is!"

"And so's the girl who always orders
the most expensive dish on the menu,"
said Judy.

"And then never eats half of it,"
Mickey added. "So's the gent who doesn't
know his limitations and gets half-
swacked."

"And the Giggler."

"And the Braggart."

"And the Tablehopper."

"And the Chronic Crabber."

"And the Cosmetic Cutie."

I don't remember who said which, but
it doesn't really matter because every
item is a "Must Do" on each of their
How To Be a Blight list.

■ The third conceivable situation which
offered blighting opportunities, they
said, was the dance floor. Here it was the
genuine Blight really could get in some
first-class work, such as humming in the
ear of the partner, whistling out of tune,
chewing gum, and dancing the same one-
two-three-and-a-glide to every tune, be
it fox trot, waltz or rhumba.

"It's good blighting to be the first to
leap out on the floor at the opening down-
beat of the drum," Mickey said. "Since
no nice girl likes to be made conspicuous,
the embarrassing qualities of this move
are at once obvious."

"And I recommend the blighting success
of an offside tackle to the front of the
bandstand, where one jiggles back and
forth endlessly in hopes of a nod from
the name band leader," Judy said. "Some
one, say, like Paul Whiteman."

She was just a little too artless about
it, and I accused her of plugging their new
picture. "You mean, Strike Up the Band"?

xfj

I J^

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she said with widened eyes. "I didn't
dream you knew he was in it!"

Well, so what's a plug for a new picture?
It's a good picture and worth it. Mickey
is seen as the leader of the high school
orchestra which wins a national contest,
and Judy does the vocals. It has some
swell tunes, a lot of comedy, a little drama
here and there, and a spectacular climax
in which four massed bands give out with
plenty of hot licks.

■ But back to blighting. The fourth
average situation which offers a fer-
tile field to the Blighter is the informal
party in the home. Here both Mickey and
Judy were most explicit.

"Start with the defeatist attitude that,
willy nilly, the party's bound to be a bust,"
they advised. "Keep hammering away at
the idea by carping and criticising at
every chance. If your hostess suggests
playing Indications, for instance, say you
think it's a silly form of exhibitionism
and count you out. If she plans something
like Anagrams, firmly announce you think
it a waste of mental effort. If she wants
to pull back the rugs and dance, inform
her you have had a hard day and are too
tired to be bothered. If she turns on the
radio, snoot the program. If she plays
some Beethoven records, compare him
unfavorably with Verdi."

In other words, crab the party and crab
it good.

If, by accident, you find yourself
actually enjoying things, all need not be

Betty Brewer was singing on a street
corner in Hollywood at just the right
moment. Director Sam Wood heard her,
signed her for a part in Rangers of For-
tune. Now she has a long contract

lost, they went on. You still can get in
an ace job of blighting things for the
other fellow. You can be the unfunny
comedian who insists on hogging the lime-
light. You can bang on the piano or go
into a violent jitterbug routine at the first
restful lull in activities. You can monopo-
lize the other fellow's girl and offer to
drive her home because it's handy for all
concerned, or concentrate on the other
girl's beau and drive him crazy with your
devoted attentions. You can annoy the
hostess by bringing several uninvited
guests on the specious excuse they didn't
have anything else to do, and upset the
whole household by stubbornly overstay-
ing the time limit set for festivities.

"To make it a complete triumph of
blighting, you can give the mother of your
hostess the screaming willies by talking
about the war and the plan to draft men
up to sixty, and sink her father with the
latest pessimistic reports on the stock-
market," Mickey said. "The whole point
is to be thorough, and that, as I said, re-
quires the positive attitude."

"Oh, positively," echoed Judy.

Just then Director Busby Berkeley
hauled the kids off to work and I sat un-
happily remembering that I was supposed
to ask the questions about how NOT to
be a Blight. It burned deep into my con-
science, for I am an honest woman at
heart, and one generally to be trusted.

Then it came to me! How To Be the
Blight of the Party really was How Not
To Be the Blight of the Party after all!

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Sleep, My Pretty One

Patricia Morison, next to be seen in Rangers of Fortune, knows
that the bedtime beauty treatments give the best results and
tells some of the secrets of her care of her beautiful skin

By ANN VERNON

£X How often do you take the words
"Beauty Sleep" literally? You use
them, I'll wager, every day, but are you
remembering to make your eight hours
of sleep each night a step forward in your
beauty and popularity campaign?

Of course you know that a certain
amount of restful sleep on a comfortable
bed, with the windows open wide to let
in the crisp early fall breezes will help
to put a fresh sparkle in your eyes the
following day and night. That you'll be
more fun (and therefore have more fun)
if you get eight hours of sleep instead of
four. But do you go any further than that?

Did you ever stop to realize that the
beauty routines you go through at night
are twice as helpful because you relax
completely after them? Because they
have all night in which to work their
magic? Or do you come in from a party
and thoughtlessly fall into bed without
removing your make-up, brushing your
hair, or doing all the countless little things
that make you better looking tomorrow?
I hope not, because if
you do, you're setting
cut to ruin any natural
loveliness you may
have.

Let me pass on to
you some of the bed-
time beauty secrets
Patricia Morison, one
of Hollywood's newest
and loveliest stars, told
me over the breakfast
table the other day.
Pat's skin is the clear
fine grained type that

WANT TO WAKE UP
LOVELIER?

Write Ann Vernon for her aids
to a beautiful sleep — and fcr
help in solving your personal
beauty problems of dry skin,
oily hair, brittle nails or proper
make-up. Be sure to enclose a
stamped, self-addressed enve-
lope for her reply, and send
your letter to Ann Vernon,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
I50I Broadway, New York City.

goes with her Irish blue eyes and dark
brown hair, and she is justly proud of it.
But she does not neglect it! No indeed,
she believes in plenty of soap and water
and cream, at bedtime as well as during
the day. Usually after washing her face
thoroughly (she lathers up twice to be
sure to remove every bit of make-up and
dirt) she will rub a bit of cream on her
palms, and pass them lightly over her
face. That leaves just enough cream on
her skin to lubricate it, but not enough
to show through make-up or smudge the
pillow case. Generally she splashes a cool-
ing skin freshener all over her face after
creaming it. That helps to keep the pores
fine, and to shrink them back to normal
size after warm water has distended them.
Pat would spend most of her time in
the bath tub if she could, so she loves all
bathing accessories — bubble baths, bath
oils and bath salts. One of her pet gadgets
is a tray that fits over the tub, holds alJ
her bath luxuries, manicure aids (warm
water softens stubborn cuticle) and face
creams. "Whenever my
skin gets really dry, I
like to cream it in the
tub, and leave a light
film on till I jump out,"
she told me. "The
cream seems to soften
my skin more that
way." Smart girl! She's
discovered that the
heat from the water
helps the cream melt
faster so it can do its
lubricating job quickly
and thoroughly. Try

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2fh

that trick sometime, and see if you don't
agree with her. And remember that
a bath taken at bedtime is the most
beautifying, because it relaxes your
muscles, and gets you in the mood for a
real beauty sleep.

Our lovely Patricia confessed the one
time she really feels like a glamour girl
is when she jumps into bed. "Because,"
she whispered, "I fairly douse myself and
the sheets with scented cologne! And I
always keep a fresh gardenia in one of
those porcelain 'hollow hand' vases on my
bedside table — a hang-over from my
dancing days when I would pin my
gardenia corsage on my pillow case, so
I could smell it even when sleeping!"

Not every one can have a fresh gardenia
on the bedside table, but there is no
reason why you can't slap cooling, re-
freshing cologne over your body, or
sprinkle some on your sheets before
slipping between them. Colognes (and
dusting powders and toilet waters and
sachets) are as inexpensive as they are
delightful, so try their magic refreshment
tonight, Sleeping Beauty!

| Many of you write asking me if such
and such a movie star's eyelashes are
really that long — and how you can make
yours as lovely. Of course a lot of the
glamour girls do wear artificial lashes on
the screen, but most of them have silky
long lashes. Patience and the nightly use
of a good lash cream do the trick for them,
and will for you, too. If you'll write, I'll
be glad to give you the name of a fine
lash conditioning cream I've used with
success for many years. Simply smooth a
bit of its richness over your lashes, then
take a mascara brush and gently stroke
up and up again, five or ten times. This
distributes the cream, and stimulates the
tiny hair cells to greater activity. The
cream gives the lashes a silky texture,
keeps them lubricated so they won't
easily become brittle and break off.
Naturally you can't expect such a lash
cream to produce results overnight, but I'd
be willing to bet that your lashes would be
longer, thicker, more lustrous at the end
of a couple of months! It's grand for thin
or unruly eyebrows, too. Don't you want
to try it? The price is a thin dime.

H Have you sometimes become so, so
confused by all the different kinds
of face creams? Then you should know
about a brand new one-jar beauty treat-
ment that has just been put on the market.
It's an all-purpose cream that cleanses
and softens the skin at the same time —
and leaves it so smooth that powder will
go on evenly, and stay on for hours. The
cream is good for the delicate blond
skin, the sensitive skin of red heads, and
the creamy complexion of brunettes. It
was perfected to answer the demands of
countless women who wanted a cream
just as nice as its big-sister hand lotion.
You'll like it too, the first time you use
it! There's a ten-cent size you can sample.
Remember, your dime is buying a cleans-
ing cream, skin softener and powder base!
The nightly use of your cream will help
prevent the appearance of dry skin
wrinkles and frown lines — but it won't do

much good about getting rid of them for
you. I can tell you the name of something
that does erase them temporarily and
helps prevent their reappearance, too.
It's a flesh-colored, wing-shaped tab that
you "glue" on the offending lines, and
leave on while you sew, read, work
around the house or merely sleep. Not
very glamorous, I'll admit, but the result
is! Because the tabs do seem to smooth out
the lines, and give your brow that young,
unfurrowed freshness. They're inex-
pensive and I'll be glad to tell you all!

B Isn't your hair the first thing you think
of in your bedtime beauty routine?
Pat's is, and no wonder. Her tresses are
so long she can sit on them, so that means
double the care you have to give yours.
She brushes them faithfully five minutes
before turning out the light, then moistens
the hair around the part, and pushes the
waves in more deeply before braiding the
ends. You probably don't have to do that,
but it is smart to curl the ends, so they'll
be perky in the morning.

If you haven't tried the new cream type
of hair set, do tonight! It gives the driest
ends a new softness and lustre, and helps
keep them curled for hours. I can give
you the name of just such a cream put
out by a famous firm of Fifth Avenue
hair specialists. Frizzy permanents, sun-
dried curls, brittle, splitting ends — all
react magically to its persuasion. And it's
so easy to use. Simply rub a bit into your
palms, then smooth them over your hair,
roll up your curls and press in your wave
—the job is done! Your hair will be sheen-
fully in place. The cream costs seventy-
five cents a tube — want the name?

H Tonight is the right time to take care
of tomorrow's perspiration problem.
So why not use a liquid that is especially
designed for night use? It stops perspi-
ration, and does away with its odor, for
anywhere from thirty-six to seventy-two
hours, depending on how you use it. I
always apply it after my tub, just before
going to bed. The bottle has an applicator
top which makes it easy, but I like to
pat the liquid in evenly with finger tips.
Its effects last longer if the liquid isn't
rinsed off right away, so I always lie with
arms overhead for about five minutes, to
let it dry thoroughly, and leave it on over-
night for maximum protection — then
rinse off any excess with my morning
shower. You can rinse it off in five to
fifteen minutes if you don't want such
lengthy protection. And there's a grand
cream perspiration-stop from the same
manufacturer that acts more quickly (but
whose effects aren't so lasting) that you
can use in the morning if you forget at
night. Both come in small sizes for a dime.

Write me before October 15, please,
if you would like the names of any of the
products mentioned in this article. Be
sure to enclose a stamped, self-addressed
envelope for your reply, and send your
letter to Ann Vernon, HOLLYWOOD
Magazine, 1501 Broadway, N. Y. C.

/tfaJe £f& /#Z

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* t .** - ***

Glamorous
JUNE LANG

One of Hollywood's
Charming Young
Screen Actresses.

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Side Glance at the Great Profile

[Continued jrom page 10]

know. Indeed, she is plenty mad for just
that reason. Garrick's manager, a wild
character named Mefoofsky (Gregory
Ratoff) and his butler (Willie Fung) don't
know either. Just as Sylvia is packing for
Reno, Garrick reels in wonderfully frag-
rant from his bender and looking sort of
odd — maybe because he is still dressed as
Macbeth.

The studio is sore. Sylvia is sore.
Mefoofsky is sore. The studio scraps
Garrick's contract and Sylvia, weary of
marriage with a human bottle, gives him
the air.

In the midst of Garrick's desolation a
resolute young skirt crashes his bedroom.
It is nifty Mary Maxwell (Ann Baxter),
author of a play called The Beloved
Transgressor. She is after Garrick to play
the lead in it. Whilst trying to throw her
out he hears her mention she already has
a backer for her play, Richard Lansing
(John Payne) . Richard is her fiance. To
Mr. Garrick a backer is an extremely
powerful argument. He realizes that if
he plays in Mary's show he can win
Sylvia back by giving her the female lead
— a thing he has promised her for years.
So he takes Mary up on her offer.

As a play, The Beloved Transgressor,
is a bit of a stinker. Richard Lansing has
sensed its probable aroma, but he is up
to some shenanigans of his own. He wants
to get married — as fiances frequently do —
but Mary is too daffy about playwriting to
bother about matrimony. She won't marry
him so he decides to back her play, think-
ing it will lay such an egg she will be
heartbroken and give up writing to share
his bed and board.

Also there is Mefoofsky. Mefoofsky is
a fugitive. Mefoofsky owes the bookies
$8,000. Bookies are unsympathetic parties.
Owing them $8,000 is just another way to
die. So Mefoofsky is glum. But when
Garrick and Sylvia are reconciled and the
play gets under way Mefoofsky is able to
stall off the bookies.

The play opens in Chicago. Halfway
through the first act the audience is in
full flight from boredom. Heavy with woe,
Garrick gets drunk between acts. During
the second act he abandons the sombre
lines of The Beloved Transgressor for his
own, improvising merrily as he goes.
Sylvia jilts the show in a huff, but Garrick
is a hit.

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Mary is sore. She thinks it is simply
dreadful that Mr. Garrick is so stinking
plastered all the time. As wimmin are
wont, she feels duty surging in her young
breast to reform the old tosspot. She goes
to work on him, but Garrick gets the
signals balled up something awful, mis-
taking Mary's evangelism for the flames
of love. Flattered, he renounces liquor in
the touching scene we gave you at the
beginning of this epic. He does more, he
goes on a milk diet.

The result is plenty abysmal. When
Garrick goes back to playing his part
straight, attendance collapses. Mefoofsky,
with no dough coming in, is again facing
a dismal death by the bookies. And
Richard Lansing is jealous of Mary and
Garrick.

To the harried Mefoofsky the solution
is clear: Garrick must be lead back to
dipsomania and profits. The only person
who can drive Garrick to drink is his
wife, and Sylvia is in Reno, sitting out a
divorce. She refuses to return until she
hears a gossip item that her husband and
Mary are in the midst of a romance. This
is a challenge to her standing as a com-
petitive female. Dander up, she storms
back to New York. Mary learns she is
coming and plants flatfeet around
Garrick's dressing room to protect him.

When the play opens in New York,
Garrick is sober, so the rage and dis-
appointment of the audience is severe.
Meanwhile Mefoofsky and Sylvia artfully
foil the flatfeet by getting some acrobats
to hurl Sylvia through a window into the
dressing room where Sylvia and Garrick
have a wonderful, wet reunion, prodigal
with bottles and belches. When the second
act opens Garrick, Sylvia and the acro-
bats lurch out on the stage clad in white
tights. We are led to believe they are
happily depraved ever after.

■ Well, there's the play, a droll little
affair, bristling with humor and Mr.
Barrymore. The crew was forever being
laid up with sore sides from laughing at
Mr. Barrymore's carryings-on. "That
guy!" said a carpenter, rassling the
giggles, "That guy! He is the funniest man
I ever watched. You never know what
he's gonna do next. An' so nice and polite
to everybody, like he was your old lady."

To give you an idea of the way things
went on the Barrymore set we will report
a scene as we saw it. It was in Garrick's
dressing room. His arms were wrapped
around Ann Baxter. Says Mr. Barry-
more: "While I am out there reading your
immortal lines I shall have your face
always before me, guiding me, spurring
me on." He kisses her on the forehead,
turns and tramps out. That's all there is to
the scene, but the first seven times they
shot it Ann Baxter came down with the
giggles.

"He imitates a ham so well," Ann
moaned pitably, "that every time he gets
to '. . . guiding me, spurred me on' I can't
hold out any longer."

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2th

"Okay," said Walter Lang, the director,
"let's make the next one good."

Mr. Barrymore read his lines perfectly,
Ann didn't laugh. He buzzed her chastely
on the forehead, turned around, tripped
and sprawled flat on his face.

| The only professional blackboard
holder in the world works with Mr.
Barrymore. He has held for him for the
last six pictures; Mr. Barrymore, who
knows an artist when he sees one, will
have no one else. The holder is Mr. Georgs
French, a bespectacled esthete. He has
made a deep study of Mr. Barrymore's
reading peculiarities and is equipped for
all emergencies. "You will detect," he says,
"that you can not detect Mr. Barrymore
reading his lines. That is the result of my
technique."

Your correspondent's opinion after
watching Mr. Barrymore go through three
hours of scenes was that you couldn't
detect his reading of the blackboard
simply because he didn't read it. He has
a memory like a phonograph and eyes
like a hawk and the likeliest reason he
uses a blackboard is that he doesn't want
to bother about learning his lines too well.
"I can remember Shakespeare," he re-
ports, "but what these movie hacks write
isn't worth remembering."

One day somebody snitched the black-
board. They couldn't locate it and there
wasn't another around. "Well," said Mr.
Lang, "I guess we'll have to sit around
and pull taffy until we can get another."

"Let's take a stab at the scene without
the old mental crutch," said Mr. Barry-
more. "It'll give my eyes a rest." So they
shot the scene without the board. Barry-
more rattled off two and a half minutes
of dialogue without a hitch. When Mr.
Lang yelled: "Cut! Print that!" Barry-
more raked him with a satanic leer and
went on to recite Hamlet's entire soliloquy
with all the flawless perfection he had
given it when he recited it last — fourteen
years ago!

The rest of the cast is having a wonder-
ful time, but Gregory Ratoft is one of the
sorrowfulest cases you can see. Because
of his director's duties he hasn't acted in
two years. Mr. Ratoff is normally a loose
bundle of Russian electricity. In front of
a camera he becomes so intense trying to
speak decipherable English he is a quiver-
ing wreck at the end of the day. "Vhat
I don't understand," he mutters, "is dat
I vork harder and vorry more as a
director and don't feel da strain so much
as dis stuff." Mostly, Mr. Ratoff frazzles
himself on our words. He held up shooting
one entire afternoon trying to pronounce
the word "author." Mr. Ratoff chewed the
word down to the consistency of his native
borsht, but still nobody could recognize
it. Mr. Ratoff was on the brink of a
nervous breakdown when they decided
to let him say "writer" in place of "author."

Of Mr. Barrymore's future there's no
telling. Right now he is in hock, or bank-
ruptcy, to the tune of $62,000 and profits
from his role in The Great Profile will go
mostly to placate his creditors. But if Mr.
Barrymore will follow the little moral of
The Great Profile, keeping his elbow bent
at the proper angle, he'll go far.

ts y©« woi

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Hollywood Invades
Virginia

[Continued jrom page 29]

Of course there is no one so crass as
the ex-bootlegger in the film. His was too
extreme a case to be credible on the screen.
The conflict in the movie had to be a much
more subtle one.

Madeleine Carroll plays an actress of
Virginia parentage who inherits an estate
and returns from New York, determined
to stay just long enough to sell the place.
Fred MacMurray plays the owner of a
nearby plantation where his family has
lived since the time Thomas Jefferson was
a neighbor. Stirling Hayden plays the
wealthy young northern sportsman whose
ideals are in contradiction to all that old
Virginia holds dearest.

That is the essence of the story, but the
really drastically new element is that it is
a story of 1940. For a reason that baffles
understanding, whenever a story has a
locale even a hundred miles below the
Mason and Dixon line, studios automati-
cally unpack the Civil War swords, and
designers get busy on the hoop skirts. Dra-
matically, the South ceased to exist, it
seems, about the year 1870. We have plenty
of pictures every year about the North
and the East and the Middle West of today,
but, so far as the movies are concerned,
when the Civil War was over, the South
was not only beaten, but time was stopped,
too.

So the experiment of playing a story of
the South in modern dress is considered
a daring innovation, and no expense was
spared to make' the venture a success.

Griffith, himself, spent six weeks touring
hundreds of miles in the Blue Ridge
Mountain country looking for locations,
and making arrangements for the use of
some of the loveliest houses in the whole
United States as backgrounds.

Bremo, designed by Thomas Jefferson
for General John Hartwell Cocke, is con-
ceded to be one of the three most beauti-
ful homes in the nation. It was completed
in 1819, and is perfectly preserved. Even
the yellowing alphabet cards are still
hanging on the walls of the old slave
school-room, first in the country.

Estoutville, another charming big
manor-house designed by Jefferson, serves
as the home bought by the wealthy North-
erner who is determined to revive the
glamour of the Old South with Yankee
money.

The Barboursville plantation, home of
Governor Barbour, serves as the home of
Fred MacMurray. The main portion of the
big house burned in 1890, and the govern-
or's descendants moved into the former
slave quarters which date back before
1800. This incident has a parallel in the
film, for the character played by Mac-
Murray lives in small quarters on his big
plantation because the main house has
fallen into complete disrepair.

Griffith had no difficulty in finding beau-
tiful ancient dwellings for his back-
grounds. His trouble started when he
began the search for the half-ruined estate
supposedly inherited by Madeleine

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Is Norma Shearer the Hollywood Dictator?

They say she owns a controlling interest
in her studio, M-G-M. They say she bosses
Hollywood society and tells important of-
ficials what to do.

How much of this is true?

SCREEN LIFE dares to bring you the
true story of Norma Shearer's power. Don't
miss this scoop. You'll find it in current
issue of —

10« AT ALL NEWSSTANDS

Visit Your Neighborhood Drug Store During Nationally Advertised Brands Week — October 4th-l2th

Tugboat Annie, beloved character created on the screen by Marie Dressier, is brought
back by the brilliant actress, Marjorie Rambeau. Alan Hale plays Bullwinkle, the
part created by Wallace Beery for the first in a new series about the colorful pair

Carroll. He drove hundreds of miles over
the winding red clay roads of Virginia,
looked at dozens of homes, but none suited.
He looked at every house built by Jeffer-
son in the whole country side, and none
would do. One was too big. Another was
too dilapidated. Another entirely too well
painted and prosperous looking.

Finally he found just what he wanted
... a beautiful house roomy in its pro-
portions, standing stately and serene on
top of a hill in the forest, miles from the
nearest village. It had been built about
1800 by Jefferson for one of his married
daughters, and bore the typically Jeffer-
sonian name of "Monticola." Griffith took
one look and realized that his search was
over. The house was well preserved, but
the grounds were a riot of untrimmed rose
bushes, and the lawn stood tall with daisies
and grass that had gone to seed. All that
the Hollywood prop men needed to do was
to replace the neat wooden shutters with
some that were falling into splinters, rub
down the white pillars with streaks of
gray paint, scatter dust and twigs over the
scrubbed steps, and they would have the
perfect atmosphere of decaying grandeur
needed for the story.

The house belongs to Miss Emily Nolt-
ing, and she was reluctant at first to
consent to invasion of her privacy. But
Griffith was persuasive, and the studio's
offer was generous. Included in the con-
tract were promises to restore the grounds
to their exact state after the company
left, so she felt that it would be ungenerous
to refuse.

There are no half measures about Vir-
ginia gentry. Once they decide to do a

thing, they do it graciously. No sooner
had Miss Nolting signed the contract than
she looked around for a way to be hos-
pitable and helpful. She was not quite
sure what the movie people wanted, but
there was one thing she could do. At least
she could have the grass cut. So cut it she
did, all around the house, somewhat to
the consternation of the production man-
ager who had to encourage a certain
amount of hasty growth to restore the
atmosphere of weedy underbrush before
the picture started.

Broken statuary and rusting iron garden
furniture did much to add to the air of
neglect, and Griffith is particularly pleased
with that effect. All during the weeks in
which he was looking for just the right
locations, he collected antique iron dogs
and deers and goddesses from a hundred
miles around. There is a little Ceres,
standing four and a half feet high, holding
her bundle of wheat and gazing off over
the misty valley. There is an almost
alarmingly defiant iron stag, a cement lady
in a Victorian riding habit mounted on a
curly little goat. But best of all is the
marble goddess who got broken off at the
ankles in some forgotten disaster. She
lies under an enormous locust tree, and
Stirling Hayden used her pedestal as a
back rest whenever he needed shade and
quiet for studying his script.

Incidentally, this is the first script Hay-
den ever has studied because most of
his twenty -two years have been devoted
to his absorbing love of sailing. When
he was fifteen, he ran away from pre-
paratory school and earned a dollar a
month as cabin boy aboard the schooner

\oc

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Puritan. Before he was twenty, he was
the mate aboard the schooner Yankee, and
was master of the schooner Chiva.

He still might be sailing the seven seas,
if a fortunate accident had not wrecked
his highest hopes and lost all of his labor-
iously collected fortune which had been
invested in his own ship, the Aldebaran.
The vessel had been built for the Kaiser in
1902, but in recent years had been laid
up in Gatun Lock in Panama, gathering
barnacles and seaweed. Young Hayden
bought her, intending to use her as a
freighter between Honolulu and Tahiti,
but one particularly savage gale made him
change his mind. The vessel was so badly
damaged off Cape Hattaras that he had
to put her into dry-dock. Need for pro-
moting money for the repairs brought him
to New York.

"People are always saying 'You ought to
go into the movies' to other people," re-
marked young Hayden. "I say it a lot.
Everybody says it. I never paid any atten-
tion when people said it to me until a
friend of mine who knows Mr. Griffith
Said it, and I guess that was one time
somebody really meant it, because he fixed
up a screen test. And here I am."

Hayden is six feet, four inches tall and
very well built. He is not handsome but
he has tremendous good looks and suf-
ficient charm to win the second male lead
in an important picture for his first screen
role.

Those good looks are the reason he is
entrusted with the big part. When
Griffith started to cast his picture there
were no big dashing actors available to
play Fred MacMurray's rival. All were
busy in other pictures. Rather than use
an experienced actor, but one much
smaller than MacMurray, Griffith decided
to sign the unknown Hayden as Madeleine
Carroll's other suitor.

^ Miss Carroll, looking more beautiful
than ever in spite of her weeks of
worry, was very gay on the blistering hot
day that we visited her on the set. In last
month's issue of Hollywood, Lupton Wil-
kinson told you of her flight by clipper to
France, just before the surrender of Paris,
in a desperate effort to see her fiance, a
captain in the French aviation corps. She
did not find him. He was far away, grimly
holding the last frontiers, and Miss Carroll,
after risking internment, by the Nazis be-
cause of her British citizenship, was forced
to return to this country, still not know-
ing whether he was living or dead. The
welcome cablegram, announcing his
safety, did not arrive until she had started
the picture. Then the good news came
that he was in Tunisia, waiting for de-
mobilization orders. After that news,
nothing that went wrong on location could

Movie Masquerade Answers

1. Earthbound

2. Pride and Prejudice

3. The Blue Bird

4. Passport to Alcatraz

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distress her. Location trips nearly always
are productive of minor discomforts, and
this one was no exception. The heat was
relentless, red dust covered everything,
and a series of thunder showers only
served to turn the air to steam.

These things were hard on the Cali-
fornia cast and crew, accustomed to cool
days and chill nights, but everything else
was going so well that Director Griffith
began to suspect that it was too good to
last.

It was.

His trainload of equipment arrived
without so much as one lens broken. Ex-
cellent living quarters were found easily
for the cast. The smart Farmington Hunt
volunteered down to the last man as "ex-
tras" in the big hunt scenes. The Techni-
color cameras registered them in what
may easily prove to be the most exciting
riding ever seen on the screen. And the
background at Monticola was perfection.

■ Griffith felt that his picture was un-
der special protection from Heaven
on the first day of shooting, but with the
very first take the trouble started.

A noise that sounded like the ticking of
a rusty time bomb invaded the sound
track and all but drowned out the voices
of the stars. The equipment was chscked,
and still the racket persisted. The scene
was cleared of spectators, but the noise
remained. Finally the culprits were
found. In the towering trees that surround
Monticola thousands of katydids or jar-
flies have lived in happy, if noisy peace
for years, talking steadily in their thin
voices.

The arrival of the movie people evi-
dently excited them, because they gos-
siped incessantly, and it was their
conversation that was possessing the
sound track.

That started the long battle with the
jarflies.

First Griffith enlisted battalions of little
darkies, armed with long poles, and used
them as beaters to keep the jarflies in-

timidated during shooting. But the
shwoosh of the beaters' sticks against the
leaves made more noise than the jarflies.
Then he tried wetting down the trees
with hoses, but the hot sun dried them in
twenty minutes and the water supply
threatened to run low. They tried spray-
ing with Black Forty, a popular poison
for bugs among Virginia farmers, but the
jarflies called up reserves and continued
their discussion. Two entomologists were
called in from the University of Virginia.
They were joined by two from the forest
service, and for a while, it looked as if
there would be as many entomologists in
conference as jarflies.

"Certainly we can kill them," they
promised. "We can have them all out of
here in two weeks."

"But I don't want to kill them," pro-
tested humane Griffith. "I just want to
keep them quiet."

The entomologists were offended.

"This is no time for joking," they said.
"Everybody always wants to kill bugs."

But Griffith was firm. He didn't want
them killed, especially if he had to wait
two weeks. That delay would double the
cost of the film. The situation was des-
perate, but it was finally solved by the
discovery that the jarflies, who were im-
pervious to harsh names and rough treat-
ment, shuddered and fell into frightened
silence at the sound of a "silent" whistle.
This is the little gadget that makes a sound
above the range of human hearing. Dogs
can hear its vibrations, and it frequently
is used in their training. Jarflies can hear
it, and either they like it so much that
they maintain a respectful silence, or they
dislike it so much they run into their
holes and cover their ears with their
little paws. Anyway, they stay still when
it is blowing.

Audiences are not expected to react in
the same way to the picture. From all ad-
vance reports, the riding scenes are ex-
pected to bring applause in the middle of
the film, so watch for this trail-blazer . . .
a new story of the New South,

Hollywood Newsreel

[Continued from page 6]

Do something!" We just stand there.
We don't do anything.

You will see our members func-
tioning at minor accidents, wherever
children get separated from their
mothers in public places, and wher-
ever women faint in theatres. It is
on occasions such as these that our
members show the stuff they are made
of, and if we do say so ourselves, they
do it beautifully. They just stand
there.

There are no dues, no meetings and
no elections. All you have to do is
stand there.

Carole Lombard
(1940 All-Events Champion; Encino
Just Stand There Club)

■ Errol Flynn, the man with no dull

moments, is taking orders for pygmy

horses that his short-subject-producing

associate, Howard Hill, is expected to
extricate from the Grand Canyon.

Hill, the mighty boar-hunter and bow-
and-arrow marksman, actually produced
a sample of the wild midget horses, having
roped it and hauled it up a cliff at some
damage to himself and horse. It weighed
twenty pounds and was less> than twelve
inches in height.

Flynn is sponsoring an expedition that
will carry snaring equipment to the Grand
Canyon and undertake wholesale capture
of the fascinating little beasts, which
resemble mountain goats in their agility
and wild hares in their speed and aloof-
ness.

| That eerie wail that echoes up and

down the arroyos and canyons of

Hollywood these nights is Mary Astor

re-enacting, in nightmares, her adventures

with the man-eating crickets of Nevada.

7>uf those

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On location for Brigham Young, Mary
was the only woman called upon to come
into contact with the hordes of three-
inch-long crop destroyers that provide the
menace in one of the film's most exciting
sequences.

As the favorite wife of Brigham, Mary
was required to go out in a field and wade
through a morass of the pests, not once,
but several hundred times. Her loathing
of the job showed up plainly on her
cameo-like features, and not a single
wince was acting.

The crickets on the Georgian estate she
shares with Manuel Del Campo are in
danger of getting jolly well exterminated
if they don't stop reminding her, at bed-
time, of their Messerschmidt cousins in
the Nevada wilds.

■ A Hollywood writer responsible for
one of the popular "family" serials

went to New York to arrange for the
publication of a comic strip and some
magazine material based on the movie
characters.

A few days after arrival he telephoned
his wife to report progress.

"Everything's great, hone y," he
crowed. "I got a check from Beck and
I've got a date with McNitt of
McNaught."

"You wretch!" his wife screamed into
the phone, misinterpreting his tidings
for alcoholic double-talk. "You promised
me you wouldn't drink a drop on your
whole trip."

It should be explained here that Mr.
Beck is the president of the Crowell
Publishing Company and that Mr. McNitt
is head of the McNaught Syndicate. Holly-
wood outlanders can't be expected to
know such curious facts.

| Jack Dempsey, scheduled for a
Western tour on his comeback trail as
a fighter, wired W. C. Fields at his Holly-
wood home:

WILL FIGHT YOU IN LOS
ANGELES ANY SATURDAY FOR
NAME YOUR OWN STAKES.
Fields wired back:

OKAY BUT CAN YOU GET IN
SHAPE?

Dempsey will be the comedian's house
guest during his Southern California
campaign.

■ That same Mr. Gregory Ratoff who
veers from directing a gem like Inter-
mezzo to appearing as a low-comedy
stooge in support of John Barrymore in
The Great Profile, is having mutt-trouble
again.

No longer employed by Twentieth Cen-
tury-Fox, Mr. Ratoff nevertheless con-
tinues to make his office there because he
likes the place. His constant companion
on the lot is a huge hound of uncertain
breed who has the whole studio personnel
terrorized with his vicious snarls and
general air of savagery.

When nervous breakdowns became
epidemic around the lot, Darryl Zanuck
traced the cause to the Ratoff cur. Forth-
with an order went out barring all dogs
from the studio grounds.

Gregory let out such a howl that an
exception was made in the case of his
dog. So the result is that he is the only
person to escape the enforcement of a rule
that was aimed specifically at him. And
to make the triumph sweeter, he's a dead-
head, non-paying guest.

H The prize ring is learning a belated
lesson from the movies in the matter
of protecting fighters with facial cuts,
particularly around the eyes.

Charles Gemorra, Paramount make-up
department chemist, long ago devised a
latex skin-covering to protect actors who
had been slashed and were still under
the necessity of making further scenes.

Lucille Ball does a strip tease and a hula
dance in the musical, Dance, Girl, Dance,
in which she has her biggest comedy
opportunity to date. Maureen O'Hara and
Louis Hayward are featured in the film

In the making of Golden Gloves, which
employed the services of some sixty
fighters, amateur and professional,
Richard Denning suffered a torn eyebrow
in a realistic scuffle with Robert Ryan,
former intercollegiate heavyweight cham-
pion, and used Gemorra's application to
cover the cut and prevent further injury.
The studio formula will undergo exten-
sive trial at the Hollywood Legion
Stadium favorite haunt of the film crowd.
If it proves successful, it will be made
available to the fight trade generally,
without royalty or other charges above
the cost of compounding it.

H The dozen young Chinese-Americans
employed as atmosphere players for a
rubber plantation scene in The Letter
were perfect types and intelligent actors.
The only difficulty about them, from a
production point of view, was that they
could not speak Chinese, being Los
Angeles-born and college-bred.

So a Frenchman, Louis P. Vincent, who
served also as technical director of the
picture, was called upon to teach collo-
quial Chinese to the Chinese. Vincent is
especially well-fitted for his job, since
he speaks all the languages of Asia and
the East Indies, including Cantonese and
Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, Malayan,
Burmese, Javanese, Cambodian, Hindus-
tani and Siamese. There are suggestions
of all these in the every-day vocabulary
of Straits plantation workers.

B Boris Morros, the language-mangling
Russian emigre who turned from
music to movie production, was discussing
an invitation list for the Adolph Zukor
silver anniversary party.

"The leest is goink like dis," Mr. Morros
related to Zukor. "De gasts includink first
me, den you, den Fills."

"What Fills you mean?" Zukor inquired.
"You mean Fills Baker?"

"Not dat accordion player," Morros
corrected. "I'm minning W. C. Fills."

| The fan mail department at Repub-
lic Pictures is in a slight state of
befuddlement over the following letter
postmarked Brooklyn, N. Y.:

"Glad to hear about the success of my
granddaughter Edith in your music picture
and wish further particulars. We heard
through Mr. Monte that the picture is
so good that they are going to make copies
of it and send a copy to Brooklyn. Please
advise." The letter was not signed!

B Director "Lucky" Humberstone made
a perfect choice in picking Alan
Mowbray as the absent-minded professor
in Touchdown.

In his spare moments Mowbray oper-
ates a pork pie factory and restaurant
with which it is almost impossible for
him to maintain contact. When he wants to
recommend the place he has to call his
home to find the name of the place and
then telephone the restaurant to find out
the address and how to get there.

H The newest "boy wonder" around
Hollywood owes much of his celeb-
rity to the fact that he is not Robert Em-
met Sherwood, the playwright. Robert
("The Wrong") Sherwood is his name
and he is setting up shop as a producer
at Columbia, with Legacy his first pic-
ture.

Robert the Wrong is only six feet
three, three inches shorter than Robert
E. And if there is any doubt about which
Sherwood you're talking to, ask your
vis-a-vis to play an oboe. Robert the
Wrong was an oboe boy with the Los
Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. Robert
E. can't play a note on the darned thing.

seV
ctt1

CANDIDA, 1501 Broadway, New York

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But then— she smiled! And his eager-
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.fiot/wi

■ Ma -

OCT 12 m

ms*m

Published in
this spac
every month

Although we've never had our face
lifted, we do know what it's like to feel
young all of a sudden.

• • • •
There was Mickey Rooney at the drums,
there was Judy Garland at the voice,
and there were we and all the audience
at our happiest.

That trip to see "Strike Up The Band"
was a trip to the Fountain of Youth.

• • • •

It started us singing. Usually our vocal
efforts are confined to the marbled halls
of the shower-room, but after seeing
this new M-G-M sooper dooper musical
smash, our little voice went pattering
all over the house.

• • • •

The boys and girls in the picture get
the plot inspiration from Maestro Paul
Whiteman himself. Over the years
Whiteman has deserved the title His
Royal Highness of Rhythm. Paul's
music never palls.

• • • •

We have a flock of bouquets to pass
around on this one. We'll toss a few to
Arthur Freed, the hit Ascap song-writer
who turned producer ; to Busby Berkeley ,
the director; and to those brother rats,
Monks and Finklehoffe, who wrote the
screen play.

• •■'••

When you hear "Our Love Affair",
others will hear you. It's more than a
melody, it's an infection.

*''••'•
But the final repeat rave must be held
for those incomparable artists of the
present and future, those babes in arms,
Rooney and Garland. We call them
Punch and Judy, because punch is what
they've got.

• • • •

It's remarkable the way M-G-M keeps
up the parade of hits. This summer has
revealed "The Mortal Storm", "Pride
and Prejudice", "New Moon", "Andy
Hardy Meets Debutante", "I Love
You Again", not to mention the record-
breaking "Boom Town."

• • • •

That leaves you all set for the master-
piece, "Escape" (Norma Shearer and
Robert Taylor) as well as this month's
delightful "Third Finger, Left Hand"
(Myrna Loy and Melvyn Douglas).

• • • •

No wonder

we're

singing

eo-

Advertisement for
Metro-Golduiyn-Mayer Pictures

W. H. "BUZZ" FAWCETT, JR., President
LLEWELLYN MILLER, Editor

Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

Town Clown (Gregory RatofT) by Erskine Johnson 19

The New Bogart by Michael Mines 21

Dietrich and Seven Sinners by Nord Riley 22

How To Be a Holiday Hostess (Mary Carlisle) 24

Introducing "The Lupino" 26

A Smattering of Insolence (Oscar Levant) by Irving Drutman 27

They Always Get Their Girl [North West Mounted Police)

by Jessie Henderson 28

Together (Albert and Elsa Basserman) by Kolma Flake 32

Fun in the Hospital by Helen Louise Walker 34

Sir Cedric Explains by Ed Jonesboy 36

Adventures with "Road Show" E. J. Smithson 38

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Duncan Underhill 6

Movie Crossword 12

The Show Goes On by The Editor 14

Important Pictures by Llewellyn Miller 16

Marshall-ing Fall Clothes by Candida 30

Movie Masquerade 49

In Loving Hands by Ann Vernon 54

Mary Astor's Chinese Supper by Betty Crocker 60

HOLLYWOOD'S Fashion Spotlight by Candida 66

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawcett Tublieations, Inc., 1100 West Broadway, Louisville, Ky. Printed
in tT S A Entered as second-class matter at the post ofrW at Louisville. Ky., under the act of March 3, 1S79. with
additional entry at Greenwich. Conn. Copyright 19J0 by Fawcett Publications, liwr- Eliott Odell. Advertising Director;
Roscoe K. Fawcett, Circulation Director: Ralph Daigh, Managing ; "Editor ; Al Allard. Art Director; E. J. Smithson,
Western Manager. General offices. Fawcett Building, Greenwich. Conn. Trademark registered in U. S. Patent Office.
Subscription rate 50 cents a year in United States and possessions: Canadian subscriptions not accepted; foreign subscrip-
tions $1.50. Foreign subscriptions and sales should be remitted by International Money Order in United States funds,
payable at Greenwich, Conn. Single issue five cents. Advertising forms close on the IStli of third month preceding date of
issue Member Audit Bureau of Circulations. Send all remittances and correspondence concerning subscriptions to Fawcett
Building, Greenwich, Conn. Advertising offices: New York, 1501 Broadway; Chicago, 3(50 N. Michigan Ave.; San
Francisco, Simpson-Reillv, Ml* Russ Building; Los Angeles. Stmpson-Reillv. Garfield Bldg. Editorial offices, IjOI
Broadway, New York City; Hollywood offices, 8555 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, California.

stamng

The exciting, romantic
novel is even more
exciting on the screen!

ilRMA SHEARER
ROBERT TAYLOR

with

CONRAD VEIDT NAZIMOVA

FELIX BRESSART • ALBERT BASSERMAN
PHILIP DORN • BONITA GRANVILLE

AMERVYN LeROY Production

Screen Play by Arch Oboler and Marguerite Roberts

Based on the Novel "Escape" by Ethel Vance

Directed by MERVYN LeROY

A METRO -GOLDWYN- MAYER PICTURE

■:,.;-,..

II III!
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By DUNCAN UXDERHILL

91 Bob Hope, enjoying one of his rare
layoffs, spent a couple of hours of his
new-found freedom playing a practice
round on the golf course.

Bubbling over with youthful well-being
and a sense of great contentment, he sang
merrily from tee to green, not particularly
caring about the quality of his shots.

Along about the seventh hole, swinging
an iron in rhythm with his song, he spied
a lazy snake on the edge of the fairway,
lapping up a bit of California sunshine and
with no enmity for any living thing.

"Hello, old gopher snake," Bob greeted,
making a lazy feint with his club. '"How's
tricks with you?"

Blithely he continued on his way. A
couple of holes later, while setting up his
ball on the tee, a fact hit him between the
eyes like a sledge hammer.

"That snake had diamonds on its back!"

he said aloud to himself, belatedly realiz-
ing that he had been fraternizing with a
rattler.

Then he went home and quietly had a
small nervous breakdown that practically
ruined his vacation.

■ The members of the very swanky
Lakeside Country Club will thank
Marlene Dietrich to leave her bums out-
side in future.

Miss Dietrich arrived for luncheon at
the spic-and-span clubhouse in her motor
car half a block long and glittering like a
Tiffany window. Out of this magnificent
equipage stepped two of the most dis-
graceful looking tramps that ever alighted
from the rods of a slow freight on the
Erie Railroad.

Humphrey Bogart, jealous of the good
name of the club, and representing the

Embarrassed, reluctant, apologetic, the little man who is mistaken for The Great
Dictator is pained at having to give the salute. This picture, more than any other
from Charlie Chaplin's new film reveals the brilliance of the little star's pantomime

*>„' - \ k*s riz w,:-,

b'1 ~r

Lucky everybody who enjoys the finest
in motion picture entertainment. For here's
Paramount with a grand college football picture,

"THE QUARTERBACK", featuring Wayne Morris and
Virginia Dale, directed by H. Bruce Humberstone.
Yes, and Dorothy Lamour, Robert Preston, and
Preston Foster in a heart-searing drama of the
teakwood forests, "MOON OVER BURMA", with
Doris Nolan and Albert Basserman, directed by
Louis King. Dick Powell and Ellen Drew in

"CHRISTMAS IN JULY", with Raymond Walburn,
a completely new kind of comedy, written and

directed by Preston Sturges, whose "The Great
McGinty" is the talk of the country. And, most
exciting of all, the Claudette Colbert-Ray Milland
starrer, "ARISE MY LOVE", directed by Mitchell
Leisen...Claudette's grandest heart-picture in years.

with the Loveliest Ladies in Hollywood to Entertain Him!

sentiments of forty or fifty loungers on
the veranda, stepped forward to demand
credentials of the hoboes.

As he approached within challenging
distance he recognized them as Mischa
Auer and Broderick Crawford, who, with
Miss Dietrich, form a trio of the sinners
in the film Seven Sinners. They had not
bothered to get out of their costumes and
make-up, while Miss Dietrich looked like
the prize-winning mannequin at a French
race track fashion show.

Marlene got the bawling out for the
breach of country club manners, although
she was only a guest. Auer and Craw-
ford are members of Lakeside.

9 Director Arthur Lubin, combing the
art galleries of Los Angeles for a copy
of the Venus de Milo, was asked by the
casting office why he didn't use a living
Venus, of whom there are 36,502 examples
in Hollywood.

"Two reasons," Lubin replied. "First
she's gotta have no arms and second she's
gotta be eight feet tall."

■ Ray Milland claims the record for the
shortest seagoing career on record. He

and Mrs. Milland set out for a holiday trip
on their new forty-foot sloop. First night
out flapping sails kept them awake until
dawn. The next day they were sunburned
within a millimetre of their lives and the
second day they were seasick.

For Sale: One sloop. Apply to Ray
Milland, landlubber from now on.

■ Apparently mistaking a casting note
emanating from Hollywood as an offi-
cial designation, the Nazi Propaganda
Ministry in Berlin has made up its mind
that Lloyd Nolan, who played the part of
an American news correspondent in The
Man 1 Married, is actually that in real life.
And they cling to the idea with all the fury
of enraged terriers.

In one week the actor received six
batches of publicity releases, official pic-
tures, and even mats for making newspa-
per engravings; a thesis pinning war guilt
on Britain and "back home" stories from
Germany intended to demonstrate that
the populace is contented and happy.

The address is simply "Lloyd Nolan,
Hollywood, U. S. A." and the sender is
D. N. B. (Deutsches Nachricht Buro—
German News Agency).

H Bill Gargan, setting out on a New
York vacation after a location trip on
They Knew What They Wanted, carries
along with him a curio to show his police-
men friends in Brooklyn.

It is a speeding ticket issued to him for
driving twenty-five miles an hour in a
forty-mile-an-hour zone.

Driving one afternoon on the outskirts
of Napa, in the vineyard country, Bill was
stopped at a crossroad by a motorcycle cop
who began immediately to write out a
ticket.

"What's the idea?" the actor demanded.
"You have no way to check my speed,
and even if you had, I was just dawdling
along at twenty-five. The law gives me
forty."

The«cop's reply had nothing to do with

legality, but dealt rather with the realities
of local economics.

Gargan's car, it developed, was spread-
ing dust among the grapevines, an unpar-
donable sin in the Napa Valley, since dust
damages the vines as well as the fruit.
The vines take thirty years to come to full
maturity and are worth more than $10,-
000 an acre. Bill had spread particles of
road dust over several hundred acres be-
fore he was stopped.

Considerably chastened, he paid a five-
dollar fine, and for his sportsmanship re-
ceived a case of Napa's best claret.

H On the set of Four Mothers Director
William Keighley was selecting "vil-
lage types" from seventy extra players
summoned from Central Casting.

Passing down the line, Keighley paused
before one man whose face arrested him.

"Haven't I met you before?" he asked.

"You used him in No Time for Comedy,"
an alert assistant director volunteered.

"But before that . . ." Keighley mused.

'"Way before that," the hopeful extra
supplied. "I directed you in your first
Broadway appearance. My name is Allan
Bennett. The play was Officer 666."

Thus Allan Bennett, once famous on
Broadway and a pioneer in New York's
Greenwich Village with the struggling
young playwright Eugene O'Neill in the
Provincetown Players, became a 1940
"village type."

| In The Hit Parade at Republic studio

there is a comedy automobile crash

involving Hugh Herbert and Mary Boland.

It's No Time for Comedy with Rosalind
Russell and James Stewart taking the
title of the new film very literally

When the wreckage has been cleared
away, Herbert, who was to blame for the
accident, remarks to the others:

"Now, let's have no damage suits. That's
a very unfriendly thing to do — sue your
neighbor for something that was an act of
God."

A couple of months ago Herbert sued for
and collected $15,000 for damages inflicted
by a truck owned by Consolidated Film
Laboratories, which is part owner of the
Republic studio. The lines in the script
were intended as a personal gag on Her-
bert, who read them like a little soldier.

■ Neighbors of Mary Astor and Ken
Murray are wondering if it wouldn't

be more profitable for them to merge their
households and save the expense of run-
ning two establishments.

Mary has a gardener who has been with
her for four years. When Ken moved in
next door, she persuaded him to hire the
man. Taking care of the two places took
up his entire time, so he gave up his other
customers.

Ken put in a swimming pool. Mary has
none. So the entire Del Campo family has
the use of Ken's pool.

Mary has a motion picture camera but
no projection machine. So all the home
movies photographed on the adjoining
haciendas are run off on Ken's machine.

Last week Ken began giving Mary's
youngest — one-year-old Tono — swimming
lessons.

Their bank accounts are still in separate
names.

■ History ran amuck in Burbank when
Abraham Lincoln shot John Brown.

The gunman and the victim were the
same person — actor Raymond Massey.

Massey, who looks like Abraham Lin-
coln in real life and who made stage his-
tory in Robert E. Sherwood's Lincoln
play, appears as John Brown in Santa Fe
Trail.

During a frontier gun battle between
Brown's men and a detachment of U. S.
Cavalry led by Errol Flynn, Massey shot
himself in the right leg with a blank car-
tridge as he yanked his pistol from its
holster.

The wound from the blank was not
serious, but U. S. history will never re-
cover from the indignity.

9 Leave it to Orson Welles to pull un-
orthodox stunts in all departments of
his long-delayed first movie, which turns
out to be the tale of a newspaper pub-
lisher titled Citizen Kane.

At the outset, he tested seven or eight
people in strong dramatic bits. When they
inquired about the success of their sample
performances, Welles informed them the
tests would be incorporated in the finished
film and he would require their services no
further.

■ Another typical Welles gesture is the
casting of a Minsky burlesque comic

in one of the key roles of the drama. Gus
Schilling is the burlesquer, a partly-
reformed slapstick comic who appeared
earlier with Welles in his Broadway
Shakespeare productions.

HEY! Look Who's Here!

They're back again —
Tugboat Annie and Capt.
Bullwinkle — the most
lovable characters who
ever appeared in Satur-
day Evening Post fiction
— coming to life on the
screen just as you've
pictured them — in the
happiest hit of any year!

Annie

MARJORIE RAMBEAU • ALAN HALE
RONALD REAGAN • JANE WYMAN

Directed by LEWIS SEILER

From the screenplay by Walter de Leon

A WARNER BROS.— First National Picture

Based on the Saturday
Evening Post stories

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The Citizen Kane role requires Schill-
ing to do a lot of incoherent mumbling to
the leading lady, Dorothy Comingore. This
recalls an amusing incident in Gus'
Broadway career.

While appearing in Orson's production
of the Shakespearean Five Kiyigs, he was
forced one night to substitute for a nar-
rator who was supposed to knit the threads
of the plot together between curtains.

Schilling's knowledge of Shakespeare
was confined to his own part and there
was a ten-minute pause to fill. So with
extreme gravity, and elaborate gestures,
he spouted double-talk for ten minutes,
not one word of it comprehensible to any-
body alive.

Nobody objected.

B Dorothy Lamour, in private life the
gentlest creature this side of a nun-
nery, faces a fresh set of perils in Moon
Over Burma. Typhoons, leopards, gorillas
and beasts in human form have beset her
in thirteen pictures. Her forthcoming lala-
palooza will show her pitted against a log-
jam, a cobra and two elephants, as well as
that most fearsome of all menaces, Love.

9 Skeletons did a rumba in Jimmy
Gleason's dressing room closet at War-
ners' when a fellow-member of the cast
of Meet John Doe, upon being introduced
to him, accused:

"James Gleason, indeed! I knew him
when his name was John G. Dubblezit."

'I'm ruined," Gleason exclaimed. "My
past has caught up with me."

In the old vaudeville days, when Jimmy
was appearing in a tabloid show with his
father, he was often called upon to play
several roles in one playlet, owing to a

chronic shortage of actors and salaries
therefor.

On his first appearance in each drama,
Jimmy would be billed by his proper
name. The second time he would be
either George Splevin, the classic name of
stage doubles, or John G. Dubblezit. On
the third appearance, he would appear
under the tricky title of Joseph R. Tripler.

The man who exposed Jimmy's triple
life was Aldridge Bowker, character actor.

■ The movie business consists of more
than merely making pictures, picking
up the money from box offices and making
more pictures.

Stanton Griffis, head of Paramount,
points this out in a report of his com-
pany's financial position.

"We used to take a million a year out
of Spain," he confides. "Now we don't
even send pictures in. But we're still
circulating the old ones and have kept tfi2
staff intact, paid them out of local profits
and have more than doubled our bank
balance.

"We've had to invest the money too,
from time to time, so as not to have too
much in any bank or banks in case of a
blowup. So if any of your friends want
to buy a few thousand pesetas or an
apartment house in Madrid, come to Para-
mount. We have plenty of both. In addi-
tion we also offer for sale, in the country
of origin, a choice assortment of Japanese
yen, German marks and all other curren-
cies from kopeks to Hungarian leis."

Not only abroad but in company-
operated theatres has Paramount learned
the value of extracting the ultimate ounce
of revenue from its holdings, in the man-
[Continued on page 50]

A rousing tale of the colorful days of early California brings together Basil Rathbone,

J. Edward Bromberg, Gale Sondergaard and Tyrone Power in The Califomian.

Linda Darnell, who just has finished playing opposite Power in Brigham Young,

again supplies love interest as one of the pioneer Mormon congregation

tfV&ie e^U.the story of a girl whose passion betrayed her on
the eve of the only happiness she had ever known, and of a man
who must abandon pride and dreams and honor to hold the one
love of his life . . . Here is romance that is unforgettable, played
to the hilt of heartbreak in the brilliant climax of two famous
screen careers . . . Here \*J94o'b ^tetlJe&t ^Uwria

QIjM LOMBARD

■

T^hey Knew What They Wanted

With WILLIAM GARGAN* HARRY CAREY • FRANK FAY

Directed by Garson Kanin
Harry E. Edington, Executive Producer • RKO RADIO PICTURE • Produced by Erich Pommer

Screen Play by Robert Ardrcy . From the Pulitzer Prjre Play by Sidney Howard

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20
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ACROSS

1. First name of Miss Maxwell.

4. M-G-M star.

11. What sad films make one do.

13. Sporting .

14. Motion pictures are projected on this.

17. Heroine of / Love You Again.

18. Nita Naldi's initials.

19. On Your (sing.).

20. To portray grief in a talkie.

22. Island of Doomed .

23. / an Adventuress.

25. Kind of dance in which Bill Robinson excels.

27. Miss Gilpin in" Gold Rush Maisie.

29. Sound made by certain animals in westerns.

31. You'll see her in Brigham Young.

33. For Love Money.

35. Miss Latham in The Sea Hawk.

37. Argandeau in Captain Caution.

33. Ruby Keeler's ex.

39. A star of Untamed.

42. The Under .

44. Her last name is Arden (poss.).

45. Daisy is one in Blondie series.

47. Date in December on which Dorothy Laniour

celebrates birth.

49. She had feminine lead in Coast Guard.

51. Sonja Heme's native land (abbr.).

53. Wayman in Dr. Kildare's Strange Case.

55. Initials of Miss Rich.

56. What the comedy furnishes.
58. Any of quintuplet stars.

60. 45 Across is fond of these.

62. Grand Opry.

63. A star of They Drive by Night.

64. Gene Krupa plays it.

DOWN

Side Kids.

9.
10.
12.
15.
16.
18.
21.

24.

26.
27.
28.
30.
32.
34.
36.
40.
41.
43.

46.
48.
50.
52.
54.
56.
57.
59.
60.
61.

To portray fright in sound films.

We Who Young.

Initials of Mr. Barthelmess.

This, and Heaven Too.

Lady Lucas in Pride and Prejudice.

Eddie Maclntyre in Scatterbrain.

Initials of Owen Davis.

Miss Stevens in Scatterbrain.

What heroine answers when hero proposes.

Girl friend of Disney's Ferdinand.

You're So Tough.

Kay's mother in / Love You Again.
Descriptive of characters portrayed by Hum-
phrey Bogart.
Middle name of Marcia Jones.

Men Without .

What Burnette is to Autry (slang).
Porky's nose.

The Three Stooges appear in these.
Belle Watling in Gone With the Wind.
Gene Autry works at this studio (abbr.).

Rhythm on tlie .

The Ranger the Lady.

Judy in Sing, Dance, Plenty Hot.

Alice Faye's screen husband in Lillian Russell.

He portrays twin servants in Boys From

Syracuse.

Susan and .

Mary in Sandy Is a Lady.

He is starred in character roles.

Rhythm on the Grande.

Twenty Mule .

He Stayed Breakfast.

His surname is Sparks.

In Missouri.

Dust illy Destiny.

Initials of Stanley Andrews.

(Solution on page 52)

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By THE EDITOR

■ Even if you are a leading man in the
movies at seventeen, life is not with-
out its darker moments. Even if you are
a great success in your chosen profession
before you can vote, that success is not
won without self-denial. Fame drives a
bitter bargain, and Joe Brown, Jr., knows
it.

Young Joe is already a big fellow with
the wide shoulders that carry pads easily,
and the long legs that should be wearing
shin guards at this time of year. But there
isn't a chance. The studio won't let him
play football. The studio has the idea that
Jane Withers' leading man should remain
in one piece, and it likes to have him
appear for work without noticeable swell-
ings, abrasions, contusions or fractures.
So young Joe has to content himself with
track, and the no less strenuous form of
athletic enterprise known as jitter-bug
dancing, he explained over luncheon dur-
ing his vacation in New York a few weeks
ago.

We were very much pleased to meet
young Joe for three separate good reasons.
In the first place, Mrs. Withers and Jane
have long been in the inner circle of
Hollywood Magazine's favorite people,
and we wanted to be sure that Jane's lead-
ing man was as nice off the screen as he
appears on it. He is. In the second place,
we wanted to see if those freckles were
real. They are. In the third place, we
wanted to ask him if his name was still
causing as much confusion as when he first
went to Hollywood.

Young Joe admitted that the confusion
is still a problem, and somewhat gloomily
pointed out that the future promised even
more.

Young Joe started on the stage when he
was six, but he was never confused with
Joe E. Brown, because, by the time he was
getting really important roles in the East,
the comedian was under contract in Holly-
wood. The trouble started eighteen months
ago when he was taken to Hollywood. By
the time his first picture was released, and
his fan mail started coming in, he had
received quite a number of letters in-
tended for Joe E. Brown, for the come-
dian's son, Joe E. Brown, Jr., and for
Harry Joe Brown, the producer. There
had been some talk of changing his name,
but by the time everyone realized that it
would have been a good idea, it was too
late. The boy had made himself widely
known for good performances under his
own name, and so the postman will have
to continue the struggle.

What is apt to make the matter much
worse, as time goes on, is the fact that
young Joe has an eleven-year-old brother,
Donald, who has played in eight Broadway
shows, and who is going into films this
year. Joe E. Brown's second son is named
Donald! And there is a possibility that
young Joe's father, Joe Brown, Sr., may
give in to his family's persuasions, and
move to Hollywood! The whole clan of
Browns is in for progressive difficulties.

Young Joe comes by his acting talents
from both sides of his family. His mother,
Helen MacDonald Brown, was a dancer
before her marriage. His father was a
stage manager and now is in the carpenter
department at Radio City Music Hall.

Young Joe and his mother drive across
the country whenever they have time be-
tween pictures, with Joe doing the driving.
Next to football and jitter-bug dancing, he

Joe Brown, Jr., again plays leading man for Jane Withers in Youth Will Be Served.
This is the tale of life in a CCC camp which was finished last summer, but which will
not be shown until after the election because of its strong political implications

likes to drive, and runs up impressive
mileage every month, even when he is
in Hollywood.

Maybe it is his way of showing gratitude
to the motor fuel industry, because, if it
hadn't been for that Ethyl Gasoline adver-
tisement, he might not be in Hollywood
now.

Two years ago, young Joe posed for a
series of advertisements in which he rep-
resented the typical American boy. A
studio executive saw that red hair, those
freckles, that mouth full of teeth, and as
quickly as a wire could be sent a screen
test was ordered.

So now we know one more sure way of
getting a Hollywood contract.

Bi The Henry Fondas' car had a flat tire
because someone had carelessly left
nails all over the garage floor. On the
same day, Mr. Henry Fonda's best tennis
pants were ruined because someone had
carelessly left some modellers' clay in a
chair in the living room. And the living
room rug was spoiled because, also on that
same day, someone had carelessly left a
can of paint in just the proper spot to be
spilled. Mr. Henry Fonda did not care for
any of these things, but Mr. Henry Fonda
could not very well lose his temper, be-
cause he was the one who had carelessly
set the stage for all three accidents. And
that is why Mr. and Mrs. Henry Fonda
decided to do something about having a
place for Henry, and Henry in his place.
You will find a fine story about the
Fondas' home life in next month's Holly-
wood Magazine.

■ The picture is called Love Thy
Neighbor, but the Jack Benny-Fred

Allen feud goes along at increasing heat
while they are working together in Holly-
wood. The whole thing picked up inten-
sity when Fred Allen began to take boxing
lessons shortly after the film started, and
explained gloomily, "I'll put up a tough
battle, but Jack has the advantage. I'm
two-fisted, but he's two-faced."

This happened after Jack Benny had
accused Fred Allen of being so afraid of
pain that he insisted on having a local
anesthetic every time he had a manicure.

For a detailed, round by round, insult
by insult report on the feud of the year,
see the December issue of Hollywood
Magazine.

■ Mr. Deeds went to town, Mr. Smith
went to Washington, and now Gary

Cooper, again under the direction of Frank
Capra, is hard at work on another hero
who takes another jaunt. Mr. Doe, how-
ever, goes broke and then he goes on the
bum, but the story promises to have the
same whimsical charm, the same sturdy
philosophy that has made Capra's other
films so appealing to enormous audiences.
The new picture tells the story of a base-
ball player who burns out his arm, loses
his job, his fame and eventually his
identity. Barbara Stanwyck is in it. So
is Walter Brennan. Rod La Rocque, who
has been off the screen for quite a few
years returns for the part of an assistant
villain to Edward Arnold. Watch for it
in next month's Hollywood Magazine.

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By LLEWELLYN MILLER

THE HOWARDS OF VIRGINIA —
Columbia

■ It is quite likely that a great many
people will leave the theatre talking,
not about the magnificent backgrounds in
this film, the enormous and excellent cast,
or the stirring story itself until they first
have discussed at some length the per-
formance of Gary Grant. We are so ac-
customed of seeing Mr. Grant amble ami-
ably through modern comedies in the
agreeable manner that has made him
famous, that his different, very definite and
interesting characterization becomes the
outstanding conversational topic supplied
by the film.

Many of us have a rather vague and
romantic mental picture of Revolutionary
times. It is composed of Patrick Henry in
a velvet coat shouting "Give me liberty
or give me death," of Washington standing
up in a boat, of Jefferson speaking sedition
in very handsome surroundings, of ex-
tremely well-tailored British Redcoats, of
beautiful graceful ladies in ruffles and
furbelows and curls dancing sedate meas-
ures under the glow of a thousand candles.
Most of us forget that the wealthy .and the
cultured were in a minority then, as today.
Most of us forget that the war was won
by impoverished backwoods settlers who
were rich on one thing only . . . the un-
shakeable determination to keep this land
safe for free men.

Gary Grant plays Matt, honest, hot-
tempered, uncouth and splendid back-
woodsman whose pioneer courage never
fails him. His father was killed fighting
the French and Indians in Kentucky, and
young Matt had to teach himself to be a
surveyor at home after he had finished the
thousand and one jobs demanded by a tiny
tax-ridden holding. His few acres of the
red Virginia soil provided hardly more
than a bare living, and that he had to
tear from the fields, himself. His mother
had to work in the tobacco rows beside
him to keep the King's tax-collector satis-
fied. He had no thought of rebellion. All
of his thoughts were directed to the West,
which still offered vast domains of free
lands.

But all that was changed on the night
he stopped by the Raleigh Tavern in
Williamsburg to say good-bye to his friend,
young Tom Jefferson (Richard Carlson) .
Young Jefferson made him bathe, gave
him some proper clothes, burned his deer-
skins, introduced him to the aristocracy of
Williamsburg, and got him a job surveying
the great plantation of the Peytons.

That ended young Matt's idea of finding
his fortune in the West. He determined
to stay, and build a plantation worthy of
Jane Peyton (Martha Scott). To the aris-
tocratic Peytons, this was almost an in-
credible presumption, but so fantastic that
it was more funny than insulting. The joke
became a rather grim one, even in part to
Matt, when Jane astounded her entire
wealthy world by accepting him.

She could not accept all of his ideas,
however, and in the conflict between these
two who loved each other is shown with
dramatic clarity the divisions of American
opinion during Revolutionary times.

Sir Cedric Hardwicke plays the older
Peyton brother who fights the new era in
the Colonies to the bitter end of his life,
and so well does he play the part that
more than once, audiences find themselves
in sympathy with his reluctance to admit
the rough Matt to his family, to tolerate
the encroachment of the new American
dream.

For the first part of the film, Cary Grant
uses a clod-hopper walk and a markedly
rough accent that makes his portrait of
Matt unforgettable and quite different
from anything this actor has done before,
and, even as Matt assisted in the liberation
of the Colonies, so the part of Matt will
assist in the liberation of Grant for more
varied acting opportunities. He has proved
that he can handle them.

Martha Scott becomes an extremely im-
portant film personality with her engaging
performance of the gallant girl who kept
her standards as well as her love untar-
nished. The rest of the enormous cast is
uniformly fine.

Under direction of Frank Lloyd, the
company spent several weeks in Virginia,
filming the backgrounds that help to make
this film extraordinary. At the expendi-
ture of some twenty million dollars. The
Rockefeller Foundation has restored Wil-
liamsburg, and made the modern town a
replica of King George's Williamsburg.
Such places as the Raleigh Tavern and the
Governor's Palace where the Burgesses
assembled, and the whole main street it-
self, are just as they were when Washing-
ton was elected our first President, when
Jefferson was formulating a new theory of
government. Action is so absorbing
throughout the film that there is little time
to pay close attention to the backgrounds,
but the film is well worth a second seeing
for the charm and the authenticity of each
tiny detail of the settings.

RHYTHM ON THE RIVER — Paramount

| Frog-faced Oscar Levant already is
widely known as the nation's darling
because of his mental and musical capers
on the Information, Please broadcast. Now
he is making a bid, and a very good one,
too, for the adoration of film fans by
playing quite a large part in the new Bing
Crosby picture.

Levant, looking rather suspicious and
belligerent most of the time, gives a quite
convincing performance of Oscar Levant
as we like to think of him. He has an
amusing part to work with, playing the
business manager for a composer (Basil
Rathbone) who has made a great reputa-
tion on other men's work. Bing Crosby
plays the man who writes the composer's
music and who is perfectly satisfied with
a small, regular salary for his efforts until

Mary Martin comes into his life. Mary
Martin, it seems, writes the lyrics.

Wingy Manone is in the film with his
band, and Crosby sings quite a few songs
in his accustomed off-hand manner. Miss
Martin also sings, but the film never
touches greatness except when Levant is
snarling wisecracks in his fascinating
Don't-hit-me-I'm-unhealthy manner.

LUCKY PARTNERS — RKO

| Even though everybody knows that
the chances of winning on a sweep-
stakes ticket are a million to one, Jean
(Ginger Rogers) had a hunch that she was
going to be lucky, especially if she could
persuade the complete stranger who
wished her "Good luck"' to buy it with
her. Any girl who has hunches like that
is born for trouble, and Jean had plenty
of it by the time she convinced David
(Ronald Colman) that he should join her
in the investment.

David drove a hard bargain. He agreed
to buy half of the ticket, but only on con-
dition that Jean would help him spend his
winnings, if there were any, on a mag-
nificent tour of America.

Jean's fiance (Jack Carson) felt bitter
to the point of inviting David out to the
alley about all this, until David pointed
out the absurdity of beating up a man
who was so whimsical as to take a million
to one chance.

What happens when the lucky partners
do win, when David insists upon his trip,

and when Jean's fiance quite understand-
ably has an impulse to follow them is gay
and lightly handled comedy.

HIRED WIFE — Universal

H This is the story about the girl who

married as a business proposition, but

convinced the man that he had loved her

all the time, and very good it still is, too.

Rosalind Russell plays the disillusioned,
practical and devoted secretary to Brian
Aherne who trusts her with his bank
account, but never thinks of handing her
any part of his heart. That is reserved
for dashing blondes, and most particularly
for a photographers' model played by
Virginia Bruce, who would far rather have
the bank roll. Just for good measure,
there is Robert Benchley as an attorney.

The secretary has extreme difficulties
in breaking up this attachment which she
feels is a real menace to her future. The
boss seems determined to put pictures of
the model on all of his cement advertise-
ments. This strikes horror to the minds of
all concerned, especially since the com-
pany is in danger of being squeezed out
of business by big corporations. It is this
danger that makes it necessary for the
boss to have a wife in a hurry so that he
may transfer his securities to her credit.

You can easily fill in the rest of the plot,
but you will have to go to the theatre if
you want to see Benchley snore and speak
a language that sounds like pidgeon-
Eskimo at the same time.

RANGERS OF FORTUNE— Paramount

J Still another new personality to make

the month a memorable one, is Betty

Brewer who scolds her way with spirit

and a fine natural acting talent through

this story of the early West.

Little Miss Brewer is thirteen years old,
and was discovered by Director Sam Wood
when she was singing on a Hollywood
street corner for nickels and dimes to help
feed her family. He promptly put her into
his picture, and you will see why when
you see her performance. Why Mr. Wood
made the picture is not so immediately
apparent, though it has seme moments of
fun and drama.

It deals with three rough citizens who
conceal hearts of pure marshmallow under
their rough manners. It seems that they
are out there in the West, smuggling guns
and otherwise getting into trouble when
they meet a little girl whose father is try-
ing to get out a newspaper that tells the
truth. The father dies and the little girl
carries on with the aid of a comic printer,
but the treacherous hand of a mysterious
villain reaches out and stops her before
she has a chance to become the Walter
Winchell of Red Gap.

Fred MacMurray, Gilbert Roland and
Albert Dekker play the three guardian
angels. Patricia Morison and Joseph
Schildkraut have important roles and
there is about the average amount of
fighting and gunplay.

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NO WONDER 'women everywhere are talk-
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Before the pearly freshness of the American girl's
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present leaders of the family which has dominated American society for generations, have for years observed the Pond's

ritual . . . MRS. VINCENT ASTOR devotes much time to the cause of music, especially the Musicians' Emergency Fund

Town Clown

Gregory Ha I of (f. soon to be seen with
•John Bar ry more in The Great Pro-
files keeps the (own laughing at his
hilarious mistakes in English and
at his equally funny film comedies

By ERSKINE JOHNSON

| It was one of those "tensely dramatic" scenes
which pop up with the regularity of options on
Hollywood's motion picture sets. The hero was on
his deathbed. Beside him the pathetic, tearful
heroine dabbed at her eyes with a soggy handker-
chief. At her feet, the family dog barked and
growled.

Everything was as it should be, said Director

Ratoff in thought

Struggling with inspiration

Dawn of a great idea

The glorified artist

Gregory Ratoff, except that the dog was
not lending the correct amount of en-
thusiasm to his acting efforts. Calling
in a thick Russian accent to the dog's
trainer, Gregory Ratoff said:

"Look, this is how your dog should
react to this scene."

Then, getting down on his hands and
knees, Gregory Ratoff barked and growled
like a dog.

Imitating dogs, a child, a girl who is
losing her lover, a drunken man, a heart-
broken mother — any part the script sug-
gests— is only one reason why Gregory
Ratoff has established himself as Holly-
wood's town clown.

Thick of body and accent, but plenty
supple mentally, Gregory Ratoff is the
center of a thousand and one hilarious
tales. Because the best actor on the set
when Gregory Ratoff is directing a pic-
ture is Gregory Ratoff. '

"If I were a producer," Tyrone Power
once remarked, "I'd buy a story about a
contortionist and have Gregory Ratoff
direct it. It would be a lot of fun to

'All we're wasting is money'

watch him tie himself into knots and then
swear in Russian as he tried to get himself
untied again."

When telling his players what he wants
for a scene, Gregory Ratoff nearly always
acts out the part himself with ludicrous
results. He is six feet tall and weighs
well over two hundred and fifty pounds,

and the effect is stunning when he is going
through action designed for a hundred-
pound actress.

During filming of Daytime Wife, Linda
Darnell was supposed to throw herself
on a bed in despair at the perfidy of her
husband. But Ratoff felt she was not
giving.it a sufficiency of the quality of
desperation.

"See," he said, "you must hurl yourself
on the bed hard — perhaps as though you
were trying to hurt yourself even. Do it
like this. Watch me."

Gregory Ratoff suited action to his
words and the bed promptly collapsed.

A good many things like this happen
because Gregory Ratoff is such an ex-
tremely tense individual. Each scene is
to him like an orange, from which he
attempts to extract every last trace of
juice. He shoots for perfection and loses
himself in the problem of attaining it.

It's a good thing, his actors agree, that
Gregory Ratoff is funny and has a sense
of humor. Otherwise, they say, tension
on the set would [Continued on page 62]

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The New
Bogart

Now that he is a star,
"Bogie" faces the horrid
duty of living up to his new
eminence, and living down
his past in gangster parts

Bv MICHAEL MIXES

■ Now that he's a star, Humphrey
Bogart feels just the same as he
always did. He admits to no new sen-
sations, no swelling around the head in-
dicative of delusions of grandeur and no
tendency to begin a sentence with "As I
said to Jack Warner only this morn-
ing. . . ."

In fact, Bogart didn't even know he
was a star until a friend told him about
the announcement by a columnist that he
was to play the star role in High Sierra,
a role that had been offered to Mr. Paul
Muni and that Mr. Paul Muni had offered
right back to Warner Brothers. Holly-
wood wags are betting that the studio
will bill the picture as "starring Mr.
Humphrey Bogart," but "Bogie," as he is
still known to one and all, says that no
one who has been identified with gang-
sters for as long as he has, is suddenly
going to be called "Mister."

After his performance with Ann
Sheridan in It All Came True and later
in They Drive by Night, there was much
talk about giving Bogie more assignments
that included a bit of the comic. This is
definitely on the calendar, but in the
meantime, for his first starring role, he's
going right on being a gangster. This
time, however, there is a difference: for
High Sierra gives him an opportunity to
carry the characterization further by
showing how the man tries not to be a
gangster and how his fatalism leads him
to the conclusion that no matter what
happens, he'll get his some day.

Ida Lupino, another new Warner
Brothers star, teams with Bogart in High
Sierra, and everybody confidently expects
that some startling results will be forth-
coming.

For a man who grumbled about how
he didn't want to be a gangster anymore,
Bogart did a lot of campaigning on his
own behalf for the role. That's because
as an actor he recognizes a good thing
when he sees it and in High Sierra he
saw a splendid chance for what every
actor loves most in the world: a solid
character role. He went around leaving
little notes on Jack Warner's desk and at

Hal Wallis' office; and dropped casual but
pointed remarks to Steve Trilling, the
studio casting director, all calculated to
boost his own nomination.

Mr. Muni, at the same time, was saying
a consistent "NO!" Mr. Muni wanted to
go on making pictures with a "message"
and he didn't see much of a message in
High Sierra, so after due negotiation Mr.
Muni and the studio terminated their
mutual obligations.

But, even with Mr. Muni off the lot,
Bogie wasn't too hopeful about his own
cause. After leaving his little notes in
conspicuous places he would go home and
brood.

"I put myself in the position of the
studio and I thought, 'Now I'm Warner
Brothers, and I'm casting the picture.
Suppose Muni turns it down; whom
would I pick? Well, there's Cagney. Then
if Cagney doesn't take it, there's Raft.
Then if Raft doesn't want it, I can always
borrow an actor from another studio.' "

So when his friend told him he had
definitely been announced for the part,
Bogart was doubly surprised and pleased

because he had practically convinced
himself that he didn't have a chance. He
went around beaming and sparkling with
joy and for awhile it even looked as
though he would hand out cigars. He
acted more like a kid who had found a
red fire-engine in his Christmas stocking
than a man who had been given another
gangster assignment.

Bogart says that he never had any real
objections to being cast as a gangster so
persistently, but that he hankered after
the chance to play a really big role. That
particular restlessness is common to
every actor and in Bogart it belied the oft
repeated assertion that he is funda-
mentally lazy and that his prime ambition
in life is just to lie still. In order to
justify the [Continued on page 44]

Dietrich and
Seven Sinners

Richard Carle plays the
rather romantic governor of
the island of Bomi-Komba
where the fascinating
"Bijou" stops for a while

■ Universal's flicker, Seven Sinners,
has some fetching moments all
right. There is one right off that is
calculated to make a shambles of
human respiration and pulse. In it we
see the extremely toothsome Miss
Marlene Dietrich, slinking into the
cabin of Albert Dekker. Dekker, a
ship's doctor, has been examining the
crew for East Indian diseases. He is
tired and somewhat boiled, being by
habit a sombre rumpot in the film.

"Strip to the waist!" he bawls, not
bothering to look up to see who it is.

The lady shudders some, but begins
to peel off her clothes as directed. For
awhile the scene has a nice air of
Gypsy Rose Lee at work. Just a button
before the Hays office can let out a howl
and raise its axe, Miss Dietrich's strip-
tease is halted. It is a pretty interesting
scene if you remember Miss Dietrich.

There are plenty others in this sultry
drama. For instance, we see Miss
Dietrich shooting a very classy game of
pool and picking up easy dough betting
on her shots. Mischa Auer, the pencil-
shaped Russian, and Miss Dietrich
wriggle La Conga and at other times
Miss Dietrich lets go with four songs
in her hair-raising voice. Broderick
Crawford, playing the part of a mus-
cular party with a temper like a blitz-
krieg, disembowels two cafes in his
wild wrath. There is a practice "black-
out" in which a magician of dubious
morals pilfers a populace of its valu-
ables. Besides all these catchy episodes
there is a new dame that will knock
your eye out, she is that nifty. She is

Left, Miss Dietrich, all gotten up for
a quiet tour of the tropics, hears some
news about the Seven Sinners' Cafe

Anna Lee, fresh from England, and pret-
tier than a rose with dew on it. And, as if
that weren't enough, John Wayne, who
fast is becoming female America's favorite
adrenalin, is to be seen, gotten up as a
naval officer.

Lest you be misled, as many have been,
we will put you wise to a little something.
The name, Seven Sinners, doesn't mean
that the picture is about seven miscreants ;
it merely refers to a cafe of that name on
the imaginary island of Bomi-Komba.
Writers Tugend, Fodor and Vodnoi, in-
vented Bomi-Komba for their script.
Nevertheless, it bears a certain similarity
to our island of Guam in the south Pacific.
Bomi-Komba is replete with a United
States Navy base, brown natives and a
tropical mien.

"It is not a good-woman role, thank
goodness!" says Miss Dietrich, discussing
her part. That "thank goodness!" means
more than meets the eye. "Good-woman"
roles almost finished Miss Dietrich's career
as an actress. She was rescued just in time
by Universal's champ producer, Joseph
Pasternak, affectionately known as Uncle
Joe. He ran a cagey optic over Miss
Dietrich's past pictures, discovering that
so long as she functioned as a disreputable
lady, as she did in Morocco and Blue
Angel, she wowed the gentry, when she
went respectable in her roles, gloom
settled en the box office. Uncle Joe rem-
edied all that by casting her as Frenchy
in Destry Rides Again.

"This part is a little like Frenchy," Miss
Dietrich explains, which means Seven
Sinners has been cooked up according to
Uncle Joe's favorite recipe for his blond
gold mine.

As Bijou Blanche, Miss Dietrich plays a
pretty tainted tomato. She seems to have
a good heart, but she is all the time being
deported from a series of islands in the
East Indies group. Bijou is low and lov-
able— too lovable for insular tranquillity.
The flicker starts cut with Miss Dietrich
being deported by the Dutch authorities.
Being given the bum's rush at the same
time is a magician with a flair for klepto-
mania, named Sasha (Mischa Auer) , and
a stalwart American ex-gob named Little
Ned (Broderick Crawford) . On board the

Seven Sinners starts with this fight and
ends with one equally big and vigorous

S. S. Malacca, Bijou meets Dr. Martin
(Albert Dekker) , who proposes marriage,
and Dorothy Henderson (Anna Lee), who
snubs her. Dorothy's father is the gover-
nor of Bomi-Komba, the American island
on which all these characters, except
Dekker, land. There Lieutenant Bruce
Whitney (John Wayne) falls for Bijou.
This makes Dorothy Henderson sore, be-
cause she, too, loves Lt. Whitney. She
complains of Bijou to her father, the
governor. He bawls out Bijou for swiping
Lt. Whitney from the navy, for Lt. Whit-
ney has resigned his commission to marry
Bijou. But Bijou sticks to her guns, refus-
ing to change her mind. Then Little Ned,
true to the dear old navy, gives her a
dressing-down for ruining Lt. Whitney's
career. Bijou almost passes out trying to
make up her mind. She decides to give
up Lt. Whitney and starts a brawl in the
Seven Sinners' Cafe to get herself de-
ported. The last shot is of Bijou disappear-
ing on the S. S. Malacca, presumably with
designs on Dr. Martin. Lt. Whitney goes
back to the navy.

| This plot antedates the Stone Age by
some years and has been repeated to
the joy of audiences ever since. So have
most plots. What counts is the garnishing.
Little things like Miss Dietrich playing
pool.

Before Seven Sinners got under way,
she wasn't much of a hand with a pool cue,
but the lady is pretty artful with the
tapered stick right now, because she has
been practicing steadily for the pool-
shooting scenes in which she whips the
U. S. Navy at its favorite sport.

"I will," states Miss Dietrich in the
midst of a number of gobs, "hit the seven-
ball (the seven is blocked) and put the
four-ball in that corner — and I will bet!"

"Two bits!" says a gob.

"Buck!" says another.

"Two bucks!"

Miss Dietrich smiles craftily. "Such
easy money." She addresses the cue ball

Rosemary Grimes tells Broderick Craw-
ford there are bigger and better fights

Mischa Auer is a bad fortune-teller but an
exceptional La Conga dancer in the film

and lets fly. The ball caroms off the
cushion, smacks the seven-ball, bounces
off that and knocks the four -ball into the
corner pocket as predicted. It is plenty
hot shooting for a lady and your corre-
spondent would very much like to take
her down to Shorty's Billiard Parlor on
the corner and lay a few wagers on her
himself.

Frank Loesser and Frederick Hollander,
who composed the songs for Destry Rides
Again, have cooked up three brand new
ones for Seven Sinners. Miss Dietrich's
uncommon voice will deliver "I've Been in
Love Before"; "I Fall Overboard"; and
"The Man's in the Navy."

■ "My favorite leading man?" said Miss
Dietrich, repeating our question. She
rolled her eyes. "There is only one — Clark
Gable." This is from a lady who has been
heavily wooed by Gary Cooper, Charles
Boyer, Robert Donat and Jimmy Stewart.
But it was expressed before the lady had
engaged in any torrid scenes with John
Wayne. She had [Continued on page 53]

"Ml

-■*

'-**•*

How To Be a
Holiday Hostess

It Is the simplest thing in the world to
serve a wonderful holiday dinner, if
yon love good food as much as Mary Car-
lisle does, and if you have a good cook

"Come to dinner. I'm going to cook it myself!"
Mary plans a real Thanksgiving for her friends

A moment of worried in-
spiration. Would oranges
be a help or hinderance?

Ah! Nothing left now but
the four hours of slow
cooking. It's so simple

No success achieved with-
out some pain, Mary has
to tell herself quickly

Two hours to go, and n
cool bathing suit for the
cook seems a good idea

Let me think . . . does
the bread go in before
the milk and the salt?

One hour to go, and only
four cuts and six burns.
But the turkey is fine

Plenty of onions are es-
sential. They are well
worth a few bitter tears

Guests due in half an
hour and the turkey
has to start flying!

Mary picks a big one, 19
pounds. The first, rule is
"Have plenty of turkey!"

Funny how turkeys gel
heavier between the market
and home, Mary reflects

''Have a nice holiday,
Anna," and Mary takes
charge of the kitchen

The efficient way, of course,
is to assemble all of the
ingredients at the start

Not emotion, just black
pepper. It's no wonder
cooks get a lot of money

"You run along, Miss
Mary." Anna tactfully
offers to set the table

Both Mary and the turkey
seem a little the worse
for wear after two hours

Mary just remembers that
she forgot the rest of
the meal completely

Thankful for one thing,
anyway, the job seems to
be practically done

Nobody wants anything
but turkey, anyway, Anna
claims reassuringly

The bird won't stay in.
"Me or you this time,"
says determined Mary

Nothing like Thanksgiv-
ing! Absolutely nothing
like it! Mary knows!

■ The whole thing started when Ida

Lupino wanted to wear a dress that

needed a necklace, and her husband, Louis

Hayward, sent her a gorgeous orchid . . .

"If I could only wear the orchid as a
necklace!" wailed Miss Lupino. "I can't
wear both. It's just too much!"

There was a slight pause in which the
inventive genius of Lupino was hard at
work. The result was that the orchid was
popped into the icebox for safe keeping,

and the very next day, Miss Lupino sought
out her friend, William Seymour, who de-
signs jewelry for many of filmland's
glamour girls. Between them they worked
out designs for clips and necklaces, to be
used to make fresh flowers part of costume
jewelry.

"There is nothing so lovely as a fresh
beautiful flower at the start of the eve-
ning," explained Ida. "That's why it is
so distressing to see them wilted and un-

happy looking a few hours later. Can't
something be done?"

Something could be done. Something
has been done. Seymour attached tiny
glass vials to some of his new jewelry.

They hold just enough water to keep a
beautiful bloom fresh and lovely through-
out the evening. Ida's favorite is the neck-
lace for evening wear, though she wears
the clip on both suits and handbags. You
will, too, if you take a hint from Hollywood!

Introducing "The Lupino

Oscar Levant, the astounding
music authority on information
Please, is now lending that
personality that blights and
blesses to the screen as an
actor in Rhythm on the River

By IRVING IIKITMA\

■ "I suppose you don't want to marry me?"

said Oscar Levant to his present wife when
he was proposing to her. Oscar wouldn't have
thought of using the affirmative, "Will you marry
me?" It just isn't in him. In private life, as in
public, he is always on the defensive. He is on the
defensive every other week on the air on Informa-
tion Please. He was on the defensive in Hollywood
all during the filming of Rhythm on the River. A
supersensitive man, Oscar is in a continual state of
crucifixion. He suspects everyone he knows of con-
spiring against him. Should he be smitten with a cold,
he assumes it is due to the malign influence exerted
by some acquaintance who has probably stayed awake
all night sticking pins in his effigy.

Once, at the country house of his friends, the George S.
Kaufmans, Oscar was on the tennis court wearing a new
sweat shirt and a pair of sneakers which Mrs. Kaufman, in
the interests of his comfort, had urged him to buy. He
swung at the ball, slipped, and sprained an ankle. Mrs.
Kaufman immediately became the cause of the accident. If,
argued Oscar, she hadn't told him to buy the outfit, he would
have remained uninjured. Nor has the episode ended there.
Should he sprain his ankle any time within the next ten
years, he will be convinced that that old sorceress, Kaufman,
is at work again.

Oscar returned from the Coast recently, after playing a
piano-playing stooge in Bing Crosby's film, Rhythm on the
River, leaving a whole new set of anecdotes behind him.
Though he is a Hollywood veteran of eleven years' standing, this
is only the second feature picture in which he has appeared.
The other was The Dance of Life, filmed in 1929. Unknown to
the general public until the last year or so, when his work on
the Information Please radio program and his vastly entertaining
book, A Smattering of Ignorance, brought him wide fame, Oscar
has long been a figure fascinating to Hollywood, both for his
excellent music and for his habit of hitting first. He is reported to
have insulted everyone of importance in the movie industry, even
topping the record of Ben Hecht, Hollywood's original no-man. Greta
Garbo, certainly no hero-worshipper, once expressed a desire to
meet "this legend Levant." The meeting, however, was unfortunate.
A mutual friend introduced Miss Garbo. "Pardon me," said Oscar, "I
didn't catch the name." Garbo looked at him sorrowfully and sighed. "It
is better he should remain a legend," she said. Walter Winchell got
hold of the story and printed it. "Pouf !" said Oscar scornfully. "Garbo's
using my name for prestige."

Joan Crawford suffered an equally distressing experience. At a
dinner party one evening, the guests were being assigned their places at
table. Inadvertently, the hostess omitted to tell Oscar where he was
sitting. "Maybe," he suggested with mock humbleness, "I'd better have
mine on a tray upstairs." "Oh no," said the hostess, "you're sitting next to
Miss Crawford." "Maybe," repeated Oscar, purely, he claims, for the
rhythm of the thing, "maybe I'd better have mine on
a tray upstairs, anyway."

His colloquy with an important movie executive
is also noteworthy, and well worth repetition. The
two. were at a preview, and at the end of the showing
the executive turned to ask what Oscar thought of the
picture. "Lousy," said Oscar. The executive was irate.
"Who are you to say it's lousy?" he shouted. "Who do
you have to be?" asked Oscar.

During his first years in Hollywood, he managed to
get himself thoroughly disliked [Continued on page 65]

■

They Always Get Their Girl

A love story is added for good measure
to the absorbing tale of Hie heroic men
who police the Canadian wilderness

By JESSIE HENDERSON

| "But 7 never drove a horse!" said Made-
leine Carroll.
"You just hold the reins," DeMille replied
in his most persuasive tone, "the horse does
the rest."

Gary Cooper stepped forward, Texas
Ranger hat on the back of his head, that
quizzical smile on his lips. "See, you
can wrap 'em around your wrists
like this." He illustrated with the
end of the reins dangling over the

»»

l»
*»

Left, Gary Cooper and Madeleine Carroll
who play the romantic leads in North
West Mounted Police. Below, Paulette
Goddard conies out from her corner of
the woods fighting in her biggest scene

dashboard. "The big thing is not to
get scared. A horse knows, every time — "

"Not get scared!" Madeleine eyed the
wagon and its pair of restive mustangs
with unconcealed foreboding. She looked
fresh as the dawn in the plain blue dress
and cape of an Anglican Mission frontier
nurse, but she also looked worried. There
were 500 horses in the picture, and these
two seemed the least trustworthy of them
all. The plot WOULD pick on her to drive
up to the fort at a gallop and cry out,
"Indians!" or something from a cloud of
dust. Her! Probably the only person on
the set who didn't know about horses.

Any type of car, now . . . But of course
cars weren't invented yet. This was
Canada in the year 1885.

It was likewise a vital moment in North
West Mounted Police. If Madeleine
didn't cry that warning, the plot
wouldn't jell; the technicolor camera
wouldn't roll; Gary couldn't track down
George Bancroft; the Mounted couldn't
put down the rebellion; and Cecil B.

DeMille's sixty-sixth production in
twenty-eight years would die a-borning.

Madeleine glanced sidewise at the patch
of Canada spread over three acres at the
rear of the Paramount lot, a slow whirl-
pool of movement and vigorous color. To
and fro sauntered grizzled trappers and
voyageurs, rebellious half-breeds, squaws
in richly beaded buckskins, stolid Indian
braves hugging their green and Vermillion
blankets. From a log pole at the center of
the stockade, the English flag snapped in
the breeze.

And Preston Foster with Robert Preston
by his side, both in the scarlet coats and
gold braid of the Mounted, perspiring
under great fur caps, sat their respective
chargers as though horses were harmless
as rabbits . . .

"I don't want to use a double for this
shot," DeMille was explaining to Made-
leine, "I want you to get really into the
hoop-la, frontier spirit of the thing."

"I hope I don't get into the hospital, too,"
Madeleine murmured as she climbed with

Gary's help to the wagon seat. There she
sat, tense and alone, while somebody led
the snorting team outside the stockade
gate. Somebody else yelled a signal.
Madeleine said, "Giddyap!" in a timid voice.

Whoooooooshhhh! She entered the
stockade at a gallop, sure enough. The
mustangs streaked through the gate and
at the camera, and were stopped with
difficulty by two of the Mounted. Made-
leine's Anglican headdress had blown
askew, her hair stood on end, her cape
was twisted under one ear.

"See?" DeMille soothed, "nothing to it.
Safer than driving a car. Let's try it
again."

She did it eight times.

"My first Western!" she panted when
the ordeal ended, "I ache all over! I look
as though I'd been pulled through a
wringer! What fun!! I'll wager my hair
is white as snow."

But even as Madeleine prepared to limp
away, there came round the corner of the
set an object [Continued on page 57]

Paulette Coddard as the Lynne Overman accused her

fiery half-breed challenger of stealing. She resents it

A primitive version of the
airplane spin goes wrong

There was even money on
Overman up to this point

ML\

When Paulette led with a
bite to the knee, he was out

Her muffler grip all but
ended the gallant Lynne

But it was the fingernails
that finally finished him

And the bout turned into
a swift cross country rout

Marshall-ing
Fall Clothes

By CANDIDA

4 vV

You'll be denture as a Quaker Lady,
and as Brenda Marshall in her
shirtwaist dress of spun haircloth,
with smartly turned down collar
of crisp white bengaline. Wear
it with a jaunty Debway classic
bonnet, and carry a long Lin-
coln pouch of shirred cape-
skin, with Talon fastened
inside pocket. Center, left,
be warm in Kayser "Toasts,"
twin-print flannelette pa-
jamas with new harem legs

etched: So-Lo's One
Ounce Overshoes keep toes dry.
Hansen adds fringed doeskin panel to
make Minnehaha gloves good, for town or
country. Hip Hip away, with Hickory Duranet
Girdle of vertical and two-way stretch elastic.
American Beauty Fashion's Montezuma pin and
bracelet, in filigree and jeweltones, cost a dollar.
Sled heels, red port trim, say Jolene's Panther
shoe was styled in Hollywood for stars and you

MAY WE HELP YOU?

Candida can tell you where to buy
these Inexpensive clothes. Send a penny
postcard for the names of stores near
you, and for FREE information on
prices, materials. Write Candida,
Fashion Editor, HOLLYWOOD Maga-
xine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

Going someplace? Wear Brenda's Calijeurte coat in
California shades. It's collarless, so yon can dress
it up with furs, or a jewelled pin. Chic envelope
bag of Forstmann Broadcloth is studded with gold,
has Talon fastened pockets for all your valuables

Together

After a lifetime of stardom
together in Germany, the
Bassermans abruptly left
that country in the middle
of a successful stage
engagement because of one
shocking, frightening insult

KOLMA FLAKE

| One evening in 1933, a limousine drew
up to the Hof Theatre in Berlin and
deposited a distinguished couple. The
crowd, gathered in front of the theatre,
cheered, for they were great favorites.
Smiling, they looked up at the lighted
marquee. There they saw spelled out in
the electric globes a drastic change in their
lives. They walked steadily into the
theatre, gave an inspired performance and
then hurried to pack a few possessions.
A few hours later, Albert Basserman, his
wife, Elsa Schiff, and their daughter, Car-
men, were speeding on their way to
Vienna.

What had the lights spelled out?

Zealous Nazi officials had ordered the
removal of Elsa Schiff 's name as co-star
of the play. Elsa Schiff had been born
the daughter of a Jew.

Albert Basserman and Elsa Schiff had
appeared together on German-speaking
stages throughout Europe for a quarter
of a century. Albert Basserman's name
was a legend in the German theatre. For
fifty years he had been known as the
greatest actor of his time. To him be-
longed the noted Iffling ring which, for

Right, Albert Bas-
serman with his wife,
Elsa Schiff, in a scene with
Robert Taylor from Escape,
exciting tale of flight from
Nazi Germany. Left, the
Bassermans exchange happy
smiles in front of their home
in Hollywood to celebrate
a long-sought security
from Nazi beliefs

more than a century, has been awarded
to the best European actor of each gener-
ation. Equally legendary was the devo-
tion of Basserman to his charming
actress-wife, Elsa Schiff, but her fame
did not prevent the removal of her name
from the Marquee.

The ministry of propaganda, learning
of their flight, pleaded with Albert
Basserman to return. Goebbels offered
many inducements and promised all con-
sideration for Mrs. Basserman. But
Albert Basserman by this time had real-
ized he could not compromise with his be-
liefs any longer.

Albert and Elsa Basserman appeared
together again on the Viennese stages
until 1938 when Hitler's troops marched

into Austria. This time the couple fled
to Switzerland, but their thoughts turned
toward the United States where many of
their friends had already gone.

They wrote to their friend, Ernst
Lubitsch, for advice. He immediately re-
plied, encouraging them to come to
America. Other friends already in
America included William Dieterle, noted
motion picture director; Henry Blanke,
Warner Brothers' producer; and Max
Reinhardt.

In April of 1939, the Bassermans left
Europe. A few months later, Mr. Basser-
man scored a distinct hit in the role of
Dr. Robert Koch in the Warner Brothers'
production, Dr. Ehrlich's Magic Bullet.
Not only the critics heralded the man
who had brought alive the great scientist
in a few brief scenes — taxi drivers, stenog-
raphers, housewives and professional men
talked of him.

But the Bassermans' difficulties were
not yet over. Unknowingly, Albert
Basserman had violated a clause in his
entry permit. Because he had engaged
in remunerative labor, he faced deporta-
tion. [Continued on page 47]

Is it true? Is some of your skin dying away— today?
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IT'S NOT a dream— not a hopeless wish never to be ful-
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Will it look smooth and fresh? Will your New-Born Skin
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If you remove those drab and lifeless flakes of worn-
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It leaves your skin so soft ... so delightfully smooth-
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Ask your doctor, and all the better if he is a specialist on
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Ask him if every word Lady Esther says isn't true— that
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Try my 4-Purpose Face Cream at my expense. See if it
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Tlease send me your generous sample tube of
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Face Powder, free and postpaid.

Name

Address-

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{Ij you live in Canada, write Lady Either, Toronto, Ont.)

.State-

0 Well, gee, no wonder screen stars pop
off to the hospital at the slightest ex-
cuse! If you can't go to a movie or a night
club without being torn practically limb
from limb, and if your contract forbids
you to roller skate, ride horseback or
go skiing until the picture is finished —
then what can you do? You can't expect
a pert young star or a pert older star, for
that matter, to sit and knit and listen to
the radio all the time.

So they go to the hospital. That's what

1 said. The hospital. The studio can't do
anything about that. Doctor's orders and
stuff. And do they have fun! Do their
friends have fun! Why, it wouldn't sur-
prise me any day now to find pickets from
Dave Chasen's and Ciro's picketing some
of our best hospitals with signs reading,
"Unfair to Night Clubs!" Hospitals have
become that gay.

You can always go in "for observation."
Then you can really get away from it all,

By HELEN LOUISE WALKER

and you don't have to let in your boss, or
the Press, or candid cameramen, or law-
yers, or your mother-in-law unless you
want to . You can always rely on your good
old dependable temperature to protect you
. . . But if you do want to see people . . .

Consider Ann Sothern. Ann, as you no
doubt read in the papers, had her appendix
removed. She felt pretty awful for a
couple of days. When she began to look
about her and recognize faces and sur-
soundings, she just closed her eyes and
said, "Gosh! I've got to have some things!"

"Things" began to arrive next day from
her home and from points east and west
by truck, motorcycle, trolley and roller
skates, for all I know. First a trunkload
of nighties and negligees and bed jackets.
Then a pink satin comfort, a silk bed

spread and some satin pillows to make it
all look cozy. Her own linen sheets and
pillow cases, monograms and all, and
some doilies for the dresser.

Next day she felt much better. So much
better that she began to look about the
hospital room with that gleam which a
woman gets when she feels a spell of
interior decorating coming on. "Lamps!"
she said, succinctly. She was so succinct,
indeed, that the nurse immediately took
her temperature, but by the time the
thermometer was removed, Ann had got
up new steam and she went on, "Lamps,
some Dresden flower vases and some book
ends. With books between them. We
could do with some overdrapes and a
white fur rug . . ."

Before the probationer who did the
dusting could utter a cry of plaintive pro-
test, Ann had acquired some carved
antique figurines which looked too ducky
adorning the [Continued on page 42]

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Cary Grant as the gallant backwoodsman, Richard Carlson as
young Thomas Jefferson, Sir Cedric Hardwicke as the wealthy
Britisher and Martha Scott as a Colonial belle in a scene
from The Howards of Virginia which was filmed almost
entirely in beautiful historic Williamsburg in Virginia

Sir Cedric Explains

He might never have been an actor, except for
a desire to keep an unpleasant disposition a
secret, so he claims with much good nature

By ED JONESBOY

| From winning a beautiful-baby con-
test to becoming the favorite actor of
the devastatingly critical Mr. George Ber-
nard Shaw is a long and toilsome road, but
Sir Cedric Hardwicke made it.

I found him sprawled on the lawn by
the swimming pool of his Beverly Hills
home in a most un-English fashion. He
didn't look like an actor. Lying there twid-
dling his toes in a pair of Mexican sandals,
he might have been anything else from
broker to beachcomber.

That, I somehow resented. I like for my
stars to look like stars whether on the
screen or not. So I began the interview a
trifle bitterly. Why, I asked Sir Cedric,
did he become an actor in the first place.

A starling strutted querulously across
the grass. Sir Cedric eyed it gravely. "I am
like that bird," he said. "I was born with
a particularly unpleasant face, and a still

more unpleasant personality. So, early in
life, I decided to take steps to conceal
them both. That's why I became an actor."

"What about that beautiful-baby busi-
ness?" I demanded.

"It wasn't my fault," he said. "I dem-
onstrated against it with a precocious vio-
lence, but it did no good. Being just one
year old, you know, I couldn't walk very
well. So I went on a sitdown strike. That's
when the photographer caught me."

"And so?"

"The picture," he continued sadly, "won
the contest. Naturally I was perfectly
furious. From that day forth I resolved
to spend as much of my public life as
possible behind disguises."

"Then you've always been an actor?"

"Always," he said. "I once tried to act
my way through medical school, after my
family decided I should follow in my

father's footsteps and become a doctor. I
failed the first examination that I took.
It was also the last. My father was so dis-
traught that he bundled me off to the first
school he could think of. I was pleased to
discover it was the Royal Academy of
Dramatic Arts."

The starling had stopped its rambling
over the lawn, and with its head cocked
sideward was dubiously staring at the
Englishman with its bright, yellow eyes.

"He doesn't believe a word of it," said
the actor. "Birds have such wonderful
intuition."

"There's a story connected with this
one," I said. "We brought the sparrows
over from England to fight insects, and
they became a greater plague than the
bugs. So we imported the starlings to fight
the sparrows, and they became worse pests
than both insects and sparrows combined."

"With that record," Sir Cedric suggested,
"they should be very fine actors."

"Impossible," I said. "They can't
change their attitude. They're always
candidly grumpy."

"Then they should be theatrical critics."

"You don't like critics?"

"On the contrary," he assured me, "I
am very fond of them. It was a critic who
really gave me my first good boost on the
stage. I had a walk-on part in The School
for Scandal with just two words to say
after I got on the stage. The next day
after the opening a critic wrote that the
entire cast was commendable with the ex-
ception of young Cedric Hardwicke. He
overacted his part truly dreadfully.

"A producer who had read the criticism
sent for me. He said, 'My boy, if you can
act badly enough to attract such atten-
tion in a two-word part, your future in the
theatre is assured.' His attitude piqued my
pride. So I joined Frank Benson's Shake-
spearean troupe for a tour of South Africa.

"It was supposedly virgin territory for
plays of the better sort. Carrying Shake-
speare to Africa, we thought, was a novel
idea, but when we reached Johannesburg,
we found that five other troupes had pre-
ceded us in the previous three months.
Besides that, Johannesburg itself was un-
der martial law, and there were rumors
of a plague, a threat of war, and, oh, I for-
got to mention it: The railway coach
bringing our props to Johannesburg
caught fire and most of our equipment was
destroyed. So we did all that was left for
us to do. We gathered together what was
left of our props and turned inland to the
backwoods country. We rambled over the
veldts, playing wherever night overtook
us.

"One night in a mining hamlet we were
giving She Stoops to Conquer in a hotel
dining room. We made exits and en-
trances through a barroom. A group of
miners were in there drinking, and each
time one of the troupe passed through the
place, he had to share a drink with them.
An actor is a kind of public property, you
know. Before that evening was over we
were almost public charges, too.

"By the third act several of the troupe

were completely unconscious. One fellow

had taken it upon himself to play two

parts, which was, of course, all right, ex-

[Continued on page 44]

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Here you see Adolphe Menjou as a
lion, John Hubbard learning to be a
lion tamer from the book of in-
structions, held some doubtfully by
the worried, frightened Willie Best

Carole Landis, owner of the carnival,
discovers Adolphe Menjou trying to
bilk her patrons with his own inven-
tion, a camera that takes money, not
pictures, and makes him go to work

Carole Landis, in order to please John Hubbard, gives him
five lions to tame, in one of the funny scenes in Road Show

Adventures
With 'Road Show

Patsy Kelly and Margaret Roach, as
the kind-hearted carnival girls, insist
on giving Menjou the spinal manip-
ulations that nearly send him to the
hospital before he can free himself

Our favorite extra thought he would have more fun
than a circus when he went to work in Road Show.
but after the lions had seen him. and the strong man
and the fire-eater had given him some of their time,
he decided it was all a low plot to ruin his career

By E. J. (The Carnival Kid) SMI Til SOX

DEAR EDITOR:

Two days less than a fortnight ago,
come high noon Wednesday, I am wearily
sitting on my cabana — pardon me, please,

And before John Hubbard finished with
the lions, he insisted on the services of
beautiful nurses, Iolande Mollot and
Inna Gest. He seems to be recovering

I mean IN my cabana — exercising my
poetic license while composing a dainty
bit of verse entitled, "Ode to My Land-
lady Or Why Don't the Guy Pay Up" and
I am feeling pretty elatedj having accom-
plished the subtle rhyming of money
with honey, when there was a knock,
knock, knocking on the door, and I am all
set to jump through the back window
thinking it is the landlady come to dis-

possess me unless she can possess my last
six bucks. I have one leg over the sill
when who should walk in but a pleasant-
faced guy whom I know very well indeed,
as Frank Seltzer, the Hal Roach publicity
director.

Frank says he is passing by on his way
to see John Hubbard about some publicity
on Road Show in which John is working,
and decided to see me long enough to
enjoy the pause that refreshes. So I open
up my last two bottles of ale. As we sit
and gulp, Frank bobs up with an offer
for me to work a few days in the current
Roach production.

Road Show, says Frank, getting warmed
up to his subject without any trial runs, is
going to be a swell picture. Carole Landis,
Adolphe Menjou, John Hubbard, Patsy
Kelly, Charlie Butterworth, Margaret
Roach and George E. Stone are in the cast.
The picture is, Frank goes on, getting
thoroughly wound up by now and letting
go a string of dollar words without a
thought of expense, a hilarious tale of a
young man by the name of Drogo Gaines
(John Hubbard) whose trick of throw-
ing a fit to extricate himself from impend-
ing marriage boomerangs and lands him
in a sanitarium. While in the institution
Drogo meets an inmate, Colonel Carraway
(Adolphe Menjou), incarcerated on his
own request to get away from the world.
Carole Landis comes into the story as
Penguin Moore, owner of a carnival to
which Drogo and the Colonel attach them-
selves on escaping from the institution.
Charlie Butterworth, Frank says, plays
the role of Whitman, an eccentric nephew
of Colonel Carraway. He never has gotten
over a childish love for fire engines. Patsy
Kelly is back after an absence of a year
to appear as Jinx, Penguin's pal and co-
worker in running the carnival. Margaret
Roach is cast as Priscilla, siren of the car-
nival, and pint-sized George Stone plays
the role of an Indian who, with typical
red-skin persistence, pursues his sweetie-
pie, Jinx, from one carnival "pitch" to
another.

"Well," says Frank, "why go on and on?
What I've related should give you a
camera-eyeful of the plot. Further and
more," he adds, getting up and heading for
the door, "if you want to earn yourself a
couple of meal tickets you'd better hitch
up and drive out to the studio today. Tell
Earl Rettig, the casting director, that I
sent you."

Well, Miss Editor, you know me. Or
should, by now. I was out there in less
time than it takes a politician to kiss a
babe. So I go to work the next morning.

I am, I find out from Casting Director
Rettig, a member of a carnival troupe.
And what a carnival and what a troupe!
Better yet, I find that the layout is the
real thing. "Moore's Greater Carnival" it's
called and it covers all of two sound stages
and three alleys and takes two camera
crews shooting like mad to keep things
moving through the script.

This carnival consists, I discover, of
twenty-two concessions, most of them
rented from a local tent and awning com-
pany which always has on hand the equip-
ment of defunct road shows. Some of the
concessions come from beach amusement

Hear that, Matilda?

SHE'S STILL CRYING LIKE A BABY!

ALICE SAW THOSE GIRLS FROM
HER BRIDGE CLUB WHISPERING.
IT WOULD BREAK MY HEART, TOO,
IE ANYBODY SAID MY CLOTHES
HAD TATTLE-TALE GRAY

«| BUT THE POOR THING WORKS SO HARD. IT'S HER
WEAK-KNEED SOAP THAT LEAVES DIRT BEHIND.
SHE OUGHT TO CHANGE TO FELS-NAPTHA-
SOAP — GOLDEN BAR OR GOLDEN CHIPS

WATS WHY I'VE BEEN SAVING THIS AD THAT TELLS HOW
FELS-NAPTHAS RICHER, GOLDEN SOAP AND REAL NAPTHA

HUSTLE OUT EVERY LAST SPECK OF DINGY, TATTLE-TALE
GRAY. LETS SLIP IT UNDER HER POOR

iiir

FEW WEEKS LATER

A PRESENT FOR
US? -WHY, WE
DIDN'T DO ATHINGl

YES, YOU DID-YOU LITTLE FOXES! AND
MY, HOW SWEET AND WHITE MY WASHES
LOOK SINCE I TOOK YOUR TIP AND PUT
THAT BIG, GOLDEN FELS- NAPTHA
BAR TO WORK

HUMPH! I KNEW YOU'D BE PLEASED! AND
THERE'S NOTHING LIKE FELS-NAPTHA SOAP
CHIPS FOR WASHING MACHINES! HUSKIER
GOLDEN CHIPS- THEY'RE NOT PUFFED UP
WITH AIR LIKE FLIMSY, SNEEZY POWDERS.
SO SUDSY, TOO - THANKS TO THAT
NEW ADDED SUDS- BUILDER !

Golden bar or golden chips—
Fels-Naptha banishes "Tattle-Tale Gray"

Wherever you use bar-soap
use Fels-Napth a Soap
Wherever you use box-soap(
use Fels-Naptha Soap Chips

CO PH. 10 40, PELS a CO

P/P£S STOPPED UP ? USE DP A NO

1 . "I'm sorry, dear, you'll have to hold
your kitchen party at Nancy's tonight.
The pipes are stopped up again!"

3. Look! Drano'* specially made to put
the heat on down where the drain's
stopped. Its churning, chemical boiling
action melts, frees grease, dirt, grounds.

;^^b^s

2. "Oh, mother, I can fix that in a sec.
I'll get some Drano. That's what we use
in the lab sink at school. Be right back."

4. "Am I good or am I good? Now mom's
going to use a teaspoonful of Drano every
night after the dishes are done to keep
the pipes from stopping up."

Drano

CLEARS DRAINS

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IBBJ

piers — and the concessionaires moved in
right along with their equipment! Like,
for instance, the woman who runs the
"spun candy" booth and the man who
operates the salt water taffy machine.
Mere, no-account extras such as me can't
be trusted to preside over such compli-
cated gadgets, so we are side-tracked to
provide atmosphere and play the roles of
roustabouts and such.

During my carnival days on the Roach
lot I made the acquaintance of such
side-show performers as Lou Manly, a
fire-eater whose idea of a perfect dessert
is a nice oil well conflagration. Lou, by
the way, sneaked up on me one hot after-
noon when I was taking a forty-winker
siesta under a carnival wagon and gave
me his Special Grade A Manly hotfoot.
He fills his mouth with the secret chemi-
cal solution he uses in his fire-eating act,
then he touches a match to it and starts
blowing a long thin stream of the flaming
liquid over your tootsies! Lady, I'm still
here to tell you that when you wake up
and take a startled gander at that long
tongue of flame bathing your feet, you are
up and out in five seconds flat, bawling
for help.

Then there was the strong man who
showed me how strong he was by grab-
bing my hands and crunching them so
hard that when I got loose I thought my
fingers were full of talcum powder instead
of bones. Believe it or not, whenever I
clapped my hands after that the dust
would fly like I was beating a rug!

■ Carole Landis, who plays the role of
an aerialist, tried to show me how to
"skin the cat" on the trapeze. I would have
done it okay and all right enough, only
my hands slipped and all I skinned was
six square inches off my back when I hit
the floor! Such fun!

John Hubbard (he plays Drogo Gaines,
remember?) confounded the muscle men
of the laboring gang by beating them on
the strength-testing machine. He picked
up the heavy sledge, swung it Paul Bun-
yan style, and hit the bell six times out of
seven. What confounded the muscle men
is that John is a slim guy who doesn't look
overly strong. He didn't do so well when
a bunch of the boys (including your fa-
vorite extra) began whooping it up on the
turn of one of the concession wheels. John
dropped ten bucks quicker than a cat can

lick up a pint of milk, and I tossed away
a day's pay. Who won? Hal Roach, Jr.,
whose father owns the studio! Yes'm,
those that has, gits!

■ You remember George Stone, of
course. A long time ago he was run-
ner-up for an Academy Award for his
splendid portrayal of the little Hebrew
tailor in Cimarron. But for one reason
or another he was sunk without a trace
after that, and for the past eight years
you haven't heard much about him. He's
back now, though, in Road Show. How far
back, he told me, he doesn't know. He has
one line, he said, that he repeats through-
out the whole picture. He's cast as an
Indian, remember, and he chases Jinx
(Patsy Kelly) from one carnival "pitch"
to another. When he catches her all he
says is "How!"

■ I'd better take time off, now, to tell
you about a screwier contraption than

ever Rube Goldberg ever dared dream
about. It's called the "Bloomin' Daisy."
It's a camera with several unique features,
chief of which is that it takes no pictures!

The Bloomin' Daisy is the pet invention
of Colonel Carraway the eccentric geezer
played by Adolphe Menjou. "I don't focus
the camera," the Colonel explained to me
between takes. "Anybody can focus a
camera. But with this invention I focus
you!"

The Bloomin' Daisy consists of a large
box mounted on a conventional tripod.
The box is covered with cogs and wheels
and levers as complex as the instrument
board of a stratosphere liner. The lens
shoots out like a jack-in-the-box. The
photographer sights through a small tele-
scope. When a picture, rather a non-pic-
ture, is taken, the Bloomin' Daisy makes
a noise like Jack Benny's famous Maxwell
stuttering uphill. Then there is an ex-
plosion and a geyser of smoke erupts. Red
and green lights flash alternately. The net
result of all this foolish business is a blank
sheet of paper on which there is no pic-
ture! Colonel Carraway told me he used
the Bloomin' Daisy in the picture to
swindle the hick patrons of the carnival
to which he had attached himself. Hal
Roach, Jr., who is assistant director to his
dad, Hal Roach, Sr., said the crazy gadget
looked like something owned and invented
by no less a guy than Frankenstein.
Which is putting it in less words than your
humble writer. And better.

■ We extras got quite a kick one morn-
ing watching Director Roach shoot a

sequence in which Menjou and Patsy
Kelly took part. Menjou is usually a suave,
smooth fellow who emerges at the end of a
picture without getting his collar wrinkled
or a hair out of place. But in this particu-
lar sequence he certainly got himself a
beating. First off, Menjou isn't very dap-
per to begin with in Road Show. As the
eccentric Colonel Carraway, he wears a
mussed up white suit and a large white
hat. When the shooting starts he comes
running to Patsy Kelly and Margaret
Roach and begs thefn to hide him from a
snooping copper. No sooner said than
done. Patsy drapes a robe over him and

then to make it more deceiving to the
flatfoot, she sits on him. And sits and sits
and sits. Later, Patsy tries her ladylike
best to get the kinks out of Menjou's
weary back by putting her knee on his
chest and "cracking" vertebrae from No.
1 to No. 10. Patsy gets so deeply in earnest
about this chore, that to us interested on-
lookers it looks like a good case of assault
and battery with a generous amount of
mayhem thrown in for good measure. And
it ~ looks that way to Menjou, too, who
groans, and grunts, and squeals like he's
suffering the torture of the Inquisition.
Director Roach shoots this sequence over
and over again much to the pleasure of
Patsy and the discomfort of Menjou.
Finally Menjou delivers the line of dia-
logue in which he tells Patsy that he
doesn't need any further treatment and
Roach gives it his okay. "Who said you
weren't a physical comedian, Dolph?" the
director grins. Menjou can't answer that
one. Patsy has kneaded his voice into a
thin, high-pitched jumble of words that
carry no meaning. He looks, though, like
he would like to say a lot, and I for one,
couldn't blame him.

H John Hubbard, when he isn't busy
before the Roach cameras, still pur-
sues his hobby which happens to be bull-
fighting. He hasn't as yet been in an
honest-to-gosh bull ring, but he's plan-
ning on it if and when he can sneak away
to Caliente some Sunday. John has one

sequence in Road Show where he has to
get into a ring and emulate a lion tamer.
He raised particular youknowwhat in his
attempts to change the script so he could
tame bulls instead of lions but it was no
dice with his boss.

I belonged to the lion taming crew dur-
ing this sequence, and was mighty glad
when the director said "Print it!"

Five lions were used in this scene. Big
ones, at that. They were, said their trainer,
well trained. "But not," he added, and
looking Hubbard straight in the eye, "well
tamed."

"In fact," he said, "you'll have to be on
your guard because they'll take an arm
off if given half a chance."

In this lion scene Hubbard had to crawl
over the cage on a steel cable. Nero, Toby,
and Leo began licking their hungry chops
right beneath him; and if he had slipped
those hungry cats would have been dining
on white meat before their trainer could
have taken a step to interfere. Fortunately
the scene was taken without any serious
incident. Willie Best, the negro comedian,
plays the role of a circus worker who as-

MONTH

Bill Holden thought that the life of a cowboy

was

a healthy one .

. . all that fresh air in

the

great open spaces. He char

ged his mind,

however, when the

mad bull

charged into

the

Arizona troupe.

Read abou

t it in Decern-

ber

HOLLYWOOD.

sists Hubbard with the lions; and he was
supposed to be very frightened. I'll say
this for Willie. He did a great job showing
fear. His face was almost as white as mine
for three hours afterward!

When you see Road Show. Miss Editor,
take a long gander at the suit that Hub-
bard wears during many of the sequences.
If it isn't the loudest outfit a man ever
wore, I'll buy you a nice, new fall bonnet.
No race track tout would be found dead
in it. It would make a fine horse blanket —
if a horse was crazy enough to wear it.
Well, the reason I ask you to give it the
once over on the screen is because John
has given it to me and I'm going to have
my gal friend remodel it into a pair of
pajamas.

I am now going back to sit on my cabana
— dang it, I mean IN my cabana — and
cogitate over a proposition that looks like
easy money. Frank Seltzer has put the
"fix" on a guy who owns a carnival com-
pany and Frank says it's all set for me to
join up at thirty-five bucks a week while
I travel hither and yon over the country.
The job? I'm to be the barker in front of
the half-man, half-woman tent! But I
don't think I'll go, come to think of it. It
looks like a deal to kick me right out of
moshun pichur career and I won't stand
for that. Neither will you, Miss Editor,
I hope.

In the meantime, I'll be seein' you in
Road Show when it hits your nearest
theatre.

he looks like a Million

BUT SHE HASN'T MUCH SENSE!

'Colgate's activepene-
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dentifrice is exactly like it."

Private Notes
from Mrs. M~ *s
Diary

,*v. a ten***

""••""••fa.TSi*?

JP1

Slept like a top ** £f ^ £*,*

The action of Ex-Lax is thorough,
yet gentle! No shock. No strain. No
weakening after-effects. Just an easy,
comfortable bowel movement that
brings blessed relief. Try Ex-Lax
next time you need a laxative. It's
good for every member of the family.

10* and 25*

Fun in the Hospital

[Continued from page 34]

metal trays which are usually reserved
for more mundane purposes in a hospital
room. And by the time she had her new
radio installed and her perfume bottles
arranged, she had a birthday. Well, you
can't have a birthday without a party,
can you? And a cake. Ann had two cakes.
The hospital provided one — a cute little
one with posies and a candle for her sup-
per tray. I guess the hospital didn't know
about the invitations which had been sent
out . . . Husband Roger Pryor arrived in
the afternoon with a huge cake and pretty
soon the guests began to arrive — the Fred
Astaires, the George Murphys, Cesar
Romero, Loretta Young and lots of others,
all bearing gifts. Tea was sent in from the
Brown Derby and singing messenger boys
twittered greetings at the doorway every
few minutes. All in all, it was really one
of the season's gayer occasions. Ann re-
covered nicely, too.

■ Edgar Bergen took Charlie McCarthy
(and a carbuncle) to the hospital "for

observation." He wasn't whisked there
in an ambulance. He went down, selected
a room and attended to things in a matter-
of-fact way. He made a list of things he
would require. Bed linens, towels, dishes,
table silver, robes — just the little com-
forts of life. So, after the truck had
arrived with the stuff, Edgar went to bed.

On Sunday he arose, dressed and took
Charlie down to the hospital auditorium
which is generally devoted to ponderous
lectures by prominent scientists on un-
pronounceable diseases. There, with an
audience of giggling nurses, internes and
a few patients, Bergen and Charlie did
their weekly radio broadcast. There was
a little party afterward and then Bergen
undressed, clambered back into his bed
and resumed being ill.

See what I mean? In Hollywood you can
have all the fun of being a pampered in-
valid and have hardly a gap in your usual
activities.

■ When Joe E. Brown was hospitalized
after his automobile accident, the

doctors hadn't even finished fitting his
splints and things before Joe received a
delegation of American Legionnaires. But
once the active Joe was trussed up in his
little hammocks and harnesses, he began
to find time hanging rather heavily. He
decided to grow some whiskers, just to see
how he would look. As this is written, Joe
has been out of the hospital for some time
but he hasn't been persuaded to part with
those whiskers. They have been trimmed
to an exquisitely perfect point and he
waggles them at you. What puzzles me is
what became of the white tuft which
appeared in the middle of them on the
third day.

He wanted to see his dog, Gypsy. But
dogs aren't allowed in the hospital. Not
even tiny dogs — and Gypsy is no midget.
By quite simple machinations, Gypsy was
smuggled up the fire escape, entertained
her master for an hour or so each day and
departed in the same furtive manner.

But Joe was social, too. Well, he almost
had to be. When his favorite restaurants
learned that he was in the hospital and that
there was nothing at all wrong with his
justly famous digestive system, they began
sending steam tables filled with goodies
to enliven his convalescence. Joe couldn't
let caviar, stuffed mushrooms and eggs
Benedict just wilt there — could he? What
a wicked waste that would have been! So
he amused himself making out lists of
people to be bidden to his afternoon "at-
homes." He probably never did as much
concentrated entertaining in so short a
period in his life. Or with better food to
serve!

A good time was had by all and, while
I am sure that no one hopes that Joe E.
will have another cracked rib, still I'm
pretty sure that there are some Hollywood
gourmets who think wistfully about Joe's
hospitable, hospital "at-homes."

B There is one wing of every big Holly-
wood hospital which has a room fitted
up especially for stag parties. It is in the
maternity ward. It is a sort of luxurious
lounge where prospective fathers may
congregate and hobnob while they await
news of imminent offspring. These rooms
are nicely fitted for refreshments and
smoking and there is plenty of room for
pacing.

George Murphy struck up a firm friend-
ship in this room with a diminutive gentle-
man who said he was in the fish business.
There was the usual hoopla in the "pater-
nity room" when GeorgeVvigil was over
. . . but the poor little fish gentleman
announced sadly that his vigil had resulted
only in a report of a false alarm. George
was devastated about this. So when his
erstwhile companion telephoned him, five
days later, that his patience had been re-
warded with a lusty boy, George rushed
down with champagne, hampers of sand-
wiches, stork favors for all the troubled
assembled gentlemen, books of instruc-
tion about how to take care of babies, and
other assorted gags. Hospital attaches
say that party has set a precedent and
that now prospective fathers pause in
their pacing to watch the door for a movie
star, bearing gifts and the makings of a
party!

B Poor Ray Milland didn't do so well!
Relaxing between pictures in dun-
garees and with a three-day growth of
beard on his chin, he nearly cut his thumb
off with the little power saw he has in his
work shop. Swished to the hospital for
emergency treatment, he found himself
booked as an "industrial case" and he
was just trying to decide which big cor-
poration he would say he had been work-
ing for when a little probationer entered
his room, recognized him and dropped a
basin of hot water smack on him.

Hs is still complaining — but bitterly! —
that they had hardly made him look
respectable enough to have callers when
they announced that his thumb was well
enough for him to take it home.

| All alert Hollywood florists and gift
shopkeepers keep special lines of "gag
presents" for local wits to send to friends
who are in the hospital. One florist special-
izes in huge china replicas of various parts
of the human anatomy. When Jeanette
MacDonald had an operation on her ear,
Gene Raymond sent her a big pink ear
filled with roses and forget-me-nots, with
a ribbon bow and a tender message. You
can get a cute, vermiform appendix which
will hold a spray of lilies of the valley . . .
and so on. Una Merkel received a naughty
little china Indian papoose when she was
recovering from pneumonia and . . . well,
there is simply no end to the kittenish
pranks people play to brighten a con-
valescence.

Gene Raymond won't forget the gag
that dear, thoughtful friends pulled when
he had his tonsils removed. Gene suffers
from hay fever and one of his chief men-
aces is goldenrod. Imagine, then, his
feelings, when the nurse opened a huge
florist's box right in his face and lifted
out a super-colossal spray of the deadly
stuff! Gene opened his mouth to howl
a protest, realized that he couldn't howl
anything — and dived frantically under the
sheets. When he learned later that the
flowers were artificial ones and completely
harmless, I'm afraid it didn't improve his
humor a bit. Hollywood gets so pixie
sometimes!

■ Sometimes there are mix-ups, even

in the best of hospitals. For some

reason this story tickles me. Humphrey

Bogart went in for a tiny and unimportant
operation. No one was worried — least of
all, Humphrey. So some friends of his
thought it would be too amusing to try
to frighten him. They formed a commit-
tee and planned to sit around his bed and
look solemn and scared— sort of bidding
him a fond farewell.

You may not believe it (it does seem
too good to be true) but there were two
Bogarts in the hospital that week-end
and one of them was recovering from a
serious head injury. The committee got
into the wrong room. They looked at the
pathetic, bandaged object on the bed,
gazed at one another in horror at their
friend's plight — and stole away in a chas-
tened and frightened mood.

I hasten to add that there is a happy
ending to all this. The Bogart who wasn't
Humphrey made a spectacular recovery
and enjoyed the joke as much as anyone
else when he heard about it.

| Fred Astaire, as you know, took his
baby very seriously. He and Mrs.
Astaire shopped for suites weeks in ad-
vance of the tot's advent. Eventually

"Honesty is the most embarrassing policy,"
claims Virginia Bruce, who declares that her
greatest talent is not her acting but her abili-
ty to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
Don't miss the amusing story of the lovely
star whose kindest words always seem to carry
quite accidental double meanings.

they found two adjoining rooms where
they might have their own furniture
around them and where they might have
their meals together and where they might
feel quite at home. Everything was ready
a week or two in advance.

But after they moved into their little
nest, things didn't progress so fast, and
Fred felt free to take afternoons off.
Randolph Scott used to call for Fred, take
him to the races and bring him back,
buckity-buckity to report to Mrs. A. But
the hospital staff got onto this and Fred
found himself very popular, indeed, as
official race tipster for the white clad
servants of mercy. So Hollywood invades
the hospitals.

| One of the best parties ever held in
a hospital was the one at which Marie
Wilson celebrated the first sprout of hair
on the forepart of her skull which had
been shaved after an automobile accident.
She had a trick little skull cap to wear
which, now that I think of it, could have
been the model for some of the hats the
girls are wearing right now. Marie gave
tiny toupees, bottles of hair tonic, tied
with hair ribbon bows for favors, as she
"unveiled" the wisp of down which was
appearing on her own brow.

"I never thought I'd get to Shakespeare
so soon," she said, "but for days I've
looked in the mirror and wondered
whether it was 'Toupee — or not toupee.' "
Then she explained the crack. Marie, you
know, would!

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Sir Cedric Explains

[Continued from page 36]

BACKACHE,
LEG PAINS MAY
BE DANGER SIGN

Of Tired Kidneys

If backache and leg pains are making you miser-
able, don't just complain and do nothing about them.
Nature may be warning you that your kidneys need
attention.

The kidneys are Nature's chief way of taking excess
acids and poisonous waste out of the blood. They help
most people pass about 3 pints a day.

If the 15 miles of kidney tubes and filters don't
work well, poisonous waste matter stays in the blood.
These poisons may start nagging backaches, rheu-
matic pains, leg pains, loss of pep and energy, getting
up nights, swelling, puffiness under the eyes, head-
aches and dizziness. Frea.uent or scanty passages with
smarting and burning sometimes shows there is some-
thing wrong with your kidneys or bladder.

cept both of them were Hamlet. After the
final curtain, the troupe, dragging its
equipment, staggered to the depot. There
we were met by the entire audience and
given, not only a thunderous ovation, but
six cases of champagne as a parting gift."

Richer in experience but poorer in
purse, Sir Cedric returned from the Afri-
can adventure to London, where he was
playing Shakespeare in the Old Vic the-
atre, when the World War broke out. For
seven years he was forced to forget the
professional stage while serving with the
British army in France. He has the dis-
tinction of being the last British officer to
leave the war zone, although, he hastened
to append, that "is hardly as honorable as
being the first one to arrive there."

War activities and the long absence from
the stage had killed much of his enthusi-
asm for the theatre. "I was at a dead end,"
he said. "As with so many others, the war
had left me with a burned-out and rest-
less feeling. One day, a miracle happened.
I had wandered by chance into a Birming-
ham theatre to see a production of Quality
Street. While looking at the play, it
seemed to me that a door opened in my
heart."

He checked himself abruptly. "Am I
getting too poetical?" he wanted to know.

"Not at all," I assured him.

"You're very kind," he said. "Some day
I'll interview you. Well, to be brief about
it," he resumed, "I landed a series of small
roles, and eventually ended with the part
of Churdles Ash in The Farmer's Wife.
Churdles was an old misogynist who wan-
dered through the play declaiming against
the foibles of women. I was so effective in
the part that a lady asked to meet me. We
met and were married.

"But that was the only one of my roles
that ever worked out conversely for me in
life. When I played Caesar, not only
Brutus, but the entire audience was ready
to stab me, I'm afraid. Nor did anyone
disagree with the critics' contention that
I was innately fitted for the part of the
crazy sea captain in Heartbreak House."

"Speaking of roles, which is your favor-
ite?" I queried.

"Canon Skerritt in Shadow and Sub-
stance," he said without hesitation. "It
was all of my best parts rolled into one."

For his portrayal of Canon Skerritt, I
remembered, he had won the New York
Drama League's medal for the most dis-
tinguished Broadway performance of the
year. After he had been knighted by Eng-
land for his contribution to the British
stage, Hollywood had brought him to
America for the priest's role in Les Mis-
erables. Then, as it so often happens,
Hollywood had ignored him. Only after
his magnificent portrayal of the lethal Mr.
Brink in On Borrowed Time did the film
industry awake to the fact that one of the
world's truly great actors had slipped
through its fingers.

But when Hollywood makes the mistake
of not recognizing great talent, it is almost
childlike in its efforts to recompense for
the error. And of late Hollywood is lav-
ishing parts worthy of a fine actor on the
knighted thespian from England it be-
latedly discovered.

Sir Cedric was yanked from a road-
showing of Shadow and Substance to play
the Dr. Livingstone Spencer Tracy pre-
sumed he had found. Scarcely had he re-
moved the snowy wig of the African ex-
plorer before William Dieterle clapped
another one on his head and sent him
chasing Maureen O'Hara as the villainous
Frollo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Towne and Baker had him contracted al-
ready for the Dr. Arnold role in Tom
Brown's School Days. Columbia moved in
and snatched him for a featured part in
The Howards of Virginia. Before he was
halfway through the production, Para-
mount had him double-timing his days on
a prominent role in Victory.

The evening had grown late. Already
the sun swam ruddily through the low fog
banks above the sea at Santa Monica. The
starling had long since left its perch in
the acacia tree and was striding imperi-
ously about us.

"I've got to get that bird something to
eat," said Sir Cedric. "We're a couple of
Englishmen with bad dispositions; so
we've got to be sticking together."

The »\v Bogart

[Continued from page 21]

studio's confidence in him and back up
his own pleas for bigger roles he must
work hard. He's willing to.

With this new impetus to his screen
career, Bogart is beyond a doubt the out-
standing bad man of motion pictures, and
on that ground alone is entitled to be
called "Mister." Anybody who has taken
shots at such stars as James Cagney,
George Raft and Edward G. Robinson so
many times deserves some sort of respect.

"My best shot though," he reminisces
nostalgically, "was Leslie Howard in
Petrified Forest. I got him with one
bullet, and he died quick. The others
have been slow bleeders and most of the

time they lived long enough to kill me."
He has used practically every known
type of weapon. He admits, "I've done
everything except throw acid in people's
faces. The Hays office won't permit that."
The Hays office has also clamped down
on the use of machine guns except when
manned by law officers, so Bogart has
had another limitation set on his talents.
This is all right with him because he
trusts in the ingenuity of script writers
to think up some new tricks.

As an off-the-screen gangster Bogart
is a miserable flop. Nothing of his many
characterizations has carried over into
his real life personally. He does not speak

with the "dese-dem-and dose" accent he
adopts for the screen and he is more in-
terested in world affairs than he is in
crime. World affairs sometimes impress
him as being criminal, but on a much
larger scale than any he has cinematically
attempted.

The home life of the Bogarts is scarcely
that of an armed gangster camp. All
rumors to the contrary, Bogie does not
collect guns. Mrs. B. (Mayo Methot) is
an actress who has been in the business
ever since she was a child. Occasionally
she takes a role in a picture. Mostly she
has been seen as gun molls and prison
inmates. Mrs. Bogart is content to let him
do most of the acting for the family. She is
not, and never has been, alarmed by his
screen roles, for her own experience in
the theatre has made her tolerant of such
assignments.

His mother, Mrs. Maude Humphrey
Bogart, a well-known artist in the early
years of this century, is very proud of
her son. She lives in Hollywood and goes
to see all Bogie's pictures, in fact, she
doesn't go to see any others.

Her attitude today is rather different
from what it once was, for when Bogart
was first embarking on ah acting career
and appeared as the juvenile in Swifty,
by John Peter Toohey, she felt that not
even mother love could stretch a point
in favor of such goings-on. She read him
Alexander Woollcott's review which said,
"The young man who embodied the

aforesaid sprig was what might merci-
fully be described as inadequate," and
added her own post-mortem comment on
the performance, which was, "So you're
an actor!"

■ His father was a surgeon and the
family rather hoped young Humphrey
would show some inclination in this direc-
tion. The only inclination he showed was
for mischief; a talent that finally, got him
dismissed from Phillip's Academy, An-
dover, when he proved himself more
efficient in plaguing the masters than in
studying.

He joined the navy and served through
the war, then later took a fling at Wall
Street with S. W. Strauss & Co. He soon
got wise to the fact that high finance was
not for him and when William A. Brady,
the theatrical producer, took an interest
in him (Bogart was a friend of Brady's
son) and offered him a job backstage in
one of his productions, he welcomed the
opportunity to desert Wall Street for
Broadway.

He was given an opportunity to appear
briefly in several plays, and finally played
in such successes as Meet the Wife, Cradle
Snatchers, Saturday's Children, Most
Immoral Lady, It's a Wise Child, After All
and Hell's Bells.

It is not generally known, but Bogart's
adventure into film took place long before
he came to Hollywood. This was when
Brady was producing a film in New York

called Life, with Arline Pretty and Rod
La Rocque. A week before the end of
production Brady discharged the director
and, in a burst of sublime faith, told
Bogart to finish the thing.

"I did a fine job," says Bogart. "There
were some beautiful shots of people walk-
ing along the streets, with me in the
window making wild gestures. There
was an automobile chase scene in which
a car ran into itself. So Mr. Brady stepped
in and directed the rest of it himself. The
film was never released; that's how good
it was."

| His association with Brady was an
exciting one, since the producer was
always firing him, an event in which
Brady recognized young Bogart's im-
munity because he always hired him right
back again. A pretext for firing Bogart
did not have to be logical, nor in any way
connected with the young actor; it was
just a sort of sublimation of Mr. Brady's
outbursts, and firing Bogart was as good
as anything else.

"I remember the night Spring Fever
opened with Hazel Dawn as the star,"
recalls Bogart. "There was a scene in
which three old ladies went around shak-
ing hands before they left the stage. If
it were perfectly timed, it was sure to get
a big laugh and a big hand. But that
night they didn't time it right. Mr. Brady
and I were sitting in the last row and
when the three women stayed on the

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Philadelphia Story was a smash hit in New York and now it conies to the screen with
Katharine Hepburn playing the role she created on the stage and with a starry cast of
film players in support. James Stewart and Ruth Hussey as the reporters, John
Howard and Cary Grant as Main Liners from Philadelphia are shown with the star

stage too long he jumped up and yelled
at the top of his lungs: 'Get the hell off
there!' His yell made him remember
where he was and he shoved his handker-
chief in his mouth and ran out. I followed
him and he fired me."

His appearance in the aforementioned
Swifty marked Bogart's first association
with guns, with which he was later to
shoot his way to screen stardom. In
Swifty, Frances Howard (now Mrs.
Samuel Goldwyn) and Hale Hamilton
were the stars. There was a scene in
which Bogart was to come downstairs
with a gun and shout at Hamilton: "I'll
kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you!"

During rehearsals Brady would make
him do it over and over again. Before
Bogart got down the stairs the producer
would be asleep.

"Finally," says Bogart, "I came right
down the stairs and shoved Hamilton into
the pit and went after Mr. Brady. He
came at me roaring but his son and
Hamilton caught me and took me into the
alley until I cooled off." ■

Such violent rehearsals should have put
Bogart in a properly lethal frame of mind
for the opening night. Unfortunately, he
was overcome by such stage fright that
he had to walk off the stage and get a
glass of water.

He says that Hale was "rather upset
and so were the critics."

H It was in 1930 that Hollywood first
put the finger on Bogart. Fox tested
him for a role in The Man Who Came
Back. Bogart came to Hollywood to dis-
cover that three other actors had been
brought out for the same role. That year
he had one good part in a picture. That

was in Up the River which John Ford
directed. Then he went back to New
York swearing never to return.

After his experience at Fox, where
there had been an attempt to turn him
into a sort of rugged glamour boy (every
studio in the industry was then frantically
searching for a Clark Gable) and later
into a cowboy, Bogart had to be coaxed
into returning. Columbia wooed and won
him for six months, then he returned to
New York a second time, still saying
loudly that he would not come back again.

Now he says he probably never will
return to the theatre. It would take a
long time, he argues, for an actor who has
learned to adapt himself to the screen
to relearn his stage stuff.

Since signing with Warner Brothers he
has made twenty-seven pictures. That
should offer some sort of a moral to
young aspirants who have hopes of reach-
ing stardom the easy way, and judging
from Bogart's experience it would seem
that they had better get used to the idea
of taking the high road Bogart walked
it for exactly ten years.

■ Off the screen Bogart is not what you
might call the picture of sartorial
elegance. No one around the studio re-
members ever seeing him in a complete,
conventional suit of clothes, because he
prefers casual items like slacks, shirts
which slop comfortably outside and sandal
shoes that are just this side of bedroom
slippers. He never says, as you might ex-
pect from seeing him on the screen, "Hi ya,
babe," to someone whom he meets for the
first time, and he stands up when a lady
enters the room. If he wore a hat he would
probably doff it respectfully.

Together

[Continued from page 32]

And so the Bassermans travelled once
again. But this time they went just over
the border into Mexico and awaited their
turn to come to the United States under
the quota. A few weeks later they were
once again trying to make a new home in
Beverly Hills.

Since then, Albert Basserman has estab-
lished himself firmly in the American
world of entertainment. He has trans-
cended the difficulties of language. He
has conquered his new public through
roles in Knute Rockne — All American,
Foreign Correspondent and The Man From
Fleet Street.

While his beloved Elsa is not yet co-
starring again with him, it is NOT because
her father was a Jew. It is because Elsa,
too, must establish herself anew. And
she is slowly gaining way. Both are
appearing in M-G-M's production of
Escape.

■ But the fateful night they stepped
onto the sidewalk in front of the Hof
Theatre in Berlin . . . what of that night?
What of the great decision they had to
make? What solutions were suggested?
What were their personal feelings? What
caused them, by the end of the evening's
performance, to sacrifice a world dear and
familiar to them for an uncertain ex-
istence? I wanted to know the answers.
I found an answer.

That answer is the love story of "Herbie"
and his "Bobby." It is a story of a love,
childlike in its simplicity and faith, god-
like in its strength and beauty.

At the Basserman home in Beverly
Hills, I was served coffee and delicious
cakes such as one finds only in those
wonderful heart-warming homes, where
family love enfolds a guest into its peace
and security.

Elsa Basserman, a slim middle-aged
woman, talked rapidly and with great
vivacity. Albert Basserman, tall and
slender, his gray hair contrasting pleas-
ingly with the baby pink of his skin,
nodded smilingly at his wife and listened
attentively to every word.

"Ah! My husband!" she exclaimed at
my inquiry. "He is the most wonderful
boy who ever lived. 'Herbie' is the man
I respect above all other men.

"I'll never forget when I first met him.
It was in 1904. I had just finished my first
theatrical engagement as Pandora in
Pandora's Box in a Berlin theatre. A
half-page photograph of me in the role
had appeared in a Berlin newspaper a
few days before my start of rehearsals in
another play. On the first day of re-
hearsal, Herbie and I were introduced on
the stage. He was so handsome, so dash-
ing! He exclaimed, 'Oh, so you are
Pandora the troublesome little girl!'

"I fell in love with him right then. After
that there was no one else for me. But
he paid no attention to me, other than
just courteous conversation. At his age,
he was interested in older, more ex-
perienced women. He was particularly in
love with a famous European singer. You

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KJO MATTER how much or how often
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Fatucett photo by Rhodes
Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., appears next in Angel Over Broadway, so maybe he is point-
ing to one in the lobby of Ciro's for the benefit of Binnie Barnes. She soon is to
make Her Honor the Mayor, co-starred with the long-legged Charlotte Greenwood

know how a young man is at that age.

"We appeared together in several plays
and became warm friends. Then we were
separated for a time. We met by chance
again at a small resort in the Black Forest
where Herbie had brought his father, and
I had brought my mother.

"Herbie's father was a handsome pa-
triarch. To see them together was to see
the great love of father and son. After
their morning walk, Herbie would come
for me and we would go for long hikes
through the forest or we would ride
horseback.

"I would say to my mother, 'Someday
I am going to marry Albert,' and she
would approve most heartily.

"But Herbie would say to me, 'I believe
you are the finest comrade a man ever
had. Too bad I am not in love with you.'
But I have patience, and I waited.

"In 1908, we met again in Vienna where

we were guest-stars of a production.
Herbie had just broken off with the singer
with whom he had been so in love.

"I guess you might say I caught him on
the rebound. I was his consolation. After
a few months he said, 'Bobby, I believe I
love you very much. Let us get married
and live the rest of our lives together with
the good times we have always had to-
gether.'

"Well, of course, I agreed. So we went
back to Berlin and were married there.

"When Carmen was born in 1910, she
just added more to our happiness. Our
life was quite normal — quite like other
German lives in the old days. Our
brothers and sisters, our parents, our
uncles and aunts were all around Berlin
and we had a wonderful family life.

"Our friends included musicians,
writers, artists and scientists as well as
actors. We knew Dr. Koch, the great

scientist whom Herbie portrayed in Dr.
Ehrlich's Magic Bullet, fairly well.

"We toured the continent, appearing on
the stage in all the German-speaking
countries. We were always together, and
were very happy until Hitler came into
power. Then, of course, the fact that I am
half-Jewish made matters difficult. When
we went to the theatre that night and saw
my name had been removed, Herbie said
instantly, 'Bobby, we shall give our per-
formance as usual tonight. Then we must
leave Germany immediately!'

"I begged Herbie to do as many others
had done where one was Jewish and the
other Aryan. I begged him to divorce me
legally, then we could continue to live to-
gether illegally. He refused to listen to
me. Then I pleaded with him to let me
take Carmen and go just across the border
where he could come to stay with us
whenever he could get away from the
theatre for a few days. Many in Germany
have done that.

"You must understand," she begged.
"My Herbie was Germany's greatest
actor. He had honor, prestige, fame and
everything a man can ask of his fellow -
men. Their grievance was with me be-
cause I am Jewish. I felt he should stay
where he had earned his place. I had
loved him for many, many years. We
had had great happiness together. I
would have had much to take with me
into exile. I would have had my great
love of and respect for him to console me.

"But Herbie would not listen. He said
there could be no compromise with a
political system abhorrent to him. He
said that if I had to go alone, then over-
night he would become an old man with
nothing to show for his years of living.

"And so that night we fled. The Nazis
did not try to impede our departure in
any way. They were considerate.

"In Vienna for five years we were
happy. We found a place in the theatres
there. Then in 1938, the Nazis walked
into Austria. We were not bothered when

we took our possessions and went to
Switzerland. We established ourselves in
a villa on the Italian side of Lake Lugano.

"We saw the increasing pressure of the
Nazi system from all sides. We went to
Paris for one film, The Heroes of the
Marne, and then we decided we'd better
look toward the United States.

"When we left Europe, we had great
hopes of America, but we didn't dream
that any country could be so gracious, so
kind and so sincerely sympathetic.

"We never dreamed that so quickly
Herbie should find his place again. All
we really hoped to find was a country
where we should be permitted to live
with some peace and with each other.

"Instead, we have found all this. We
know that God still is good, and still
watches over us all."

While she talked, I looked around at
the house ... a house bare of those
possessions one accumulates through
many years of living, but a house that
was a safe, secure home, and I thought of
Ludwig Lewisohn's poem —

TOGETHER
(This Is Marriage)

You and I by this lamp, with these

Few books, shut out the world. Our knees

Tough almost in this little space

But I am glad. I see your face.

The silences are long, but each

Hears the other without speech.

And in this simple scene there is

The essence of all subtleties,

The freedom from all fret and smart

The one sure sabbath of the heart.

The world we cannot conquer it.

Nor change the minds of fools one whit.

Here, here alone do we create

Beauty and peace inviolate.

Here, night by night and hour by hour,

We build a high, impregnable tower,

Whence may shine, now and again,

A light to light the feet of men

When they see the rays thereof.

And this is marriage; this is love.

Movie Masquerade

Is there a detective in the house? Masquerading behind the phrases below are
movie titles, and if you are a clever movie fan, as well as a good detective, you will be
able to ferret out four of the five titles. If you answer three out of five, you are more
of a movie fan than a detective. Less than three, let's not mention. The phrases suggest
movie titles only and not the subject matter or plot of the picture. For instance, the
phrase "Why refreshment stands make money," suggests the title Pop Always Pays,
although the picture itself doesn't concern that kind of "pop." Look for the answers
(if you weaken) on page 66.

1. What would come out if you built a fire under Fort Knox?

2. Ultimate destination of water under the bridge.

3. Why restaurants don't sell food to men only.

4. One-fourth of this would make Eddie Cantor happy.

5. Why drivers of owl taxicabs don't get sunstroke.

when the family doctor stopped
in yesterday. But he was tired out
and came in to rest before his next
call. Then I had an inspiration.

"Here's your medicine," I cried, hand-
ing him a stick of Beeman's. "Take
this and relax." "Beeman's!", said he,
"my favorite chewing gum. It's
mighty good medicine for tired
tastes. I'm really rested now.
Send me your bill — your treatment
is a treat."

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Ruth Hussey (see page 46} shows off the torso length
of her Jacket by having it a different shade from the
skirt. Mix and match suits are smart — try wearing
two shades of the same color, or combine plaids or
stripes with plain materials for dash.

The truth about

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Hollywood Newsreel

[Continued from page 10]

ner of the meat packers who utilize every
part of a pig but the squeal.

"Paramount's net profits from its candy
business in its theatres," Griffis reported,
"are in excess of all the interests on its
indebtedness."

■ Lee Wong, Chinese actor who already
holds the movie record for high pay
on a per-word basis, muffed an oppor-
tunity to bag another soft check when
he forgot his speech on a Cherokee Strip
location.

Screen Actors' Guild rules decree that
$25 must be paid to any actor who utters
a line before the camera. Lee's high-
water mark was a minimum check for
voicing the syllable " 'lo," a contraction of
hello.

In Cherokee Strip, Richard Dix, emerg-
ing from a cabin, asks the Chinese, "Which
way did the posse go?" This is a standard
line in all Westerns and requires only an
answering gesture and the stock phrase,
"They went that way."

Lee was so overcome by the drama of
the situation that he muffed the lines
entirely. His action, however, was suf-
ficiently expressive to get the idea over,
so there was no retake. Instead of $25,
he got $11.25, the regular pay for extras.

| To demonstrate how audiences make
actors it is profitable to relate the tale
of the Pasadena dentist who ran up a big
personal score in When the Daltons Rode.
The dentist is Dr. Edgar Buchanan, who,
appearing in his second film role, served
as a sort of animated prologue and epi-

logue to the tale. He was a garrulous
wheelwright who set the pace for the
opening scenes and cut the horror after
the climax.

Doc Buchanan, who always wanted to
be an actor and won a dramatic scholar-
ship at Yale, became a dentist at the in-
sistence of his father, also a D.D.S. In
dental school he met his future wife in
Mildred Smith and for ten years they
practiced dentistry together in Oregon.

A year ago the Buchanans moved to
Pasadena and Dr. Edgar began indulging
his early love of the theatre by appearing
in stage plays at the Pasadena Com-
munity Theatre. His work won him a
character role in Arizona, still unreleased.
Director George Marshall hired him for
The Daltons on the recommendation of the
Arizona director, Wesley Ruggles.

Although only thirty-four, Buchanan
appears a generation older because of the
beard he grew for the two roles. His
dental patients don't mind the beard; in
fact get a kick out of being treated by a
bona fide movie actor.

On the original credit sheets and cast
announcements Buchanan was not men-
tioned, the studio consensus being that his
role was too minor to warrant it. But .the
day after the press preview, Universal
done right by the Doc, thanks to the unan-
imous demand of the first-night reviewers.

■ Smiley Burnette, comic in the Gene

Autry Westerns, celebrated three

years' uninterrupted work at Republic by

building a swimming pool on the grounds

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Eric Maria Remarque, who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front and for it became an
exile from his native Germany, is now in Hollywood and is shown here dining at
Ciro's with Marlene Dietrich, who also refuses to return to her native Germany

Marjorie Dean is a dazzling sample of
the dozens of beautiful girls who are
featured in A Night at Earl Carroll's

of his pleasant house, which is almost in
the shadow of the studio.

The day the pool was finished Smiley's
doctor ordered him to give up swimming
because he was losing weight too rapidly.
The edict was endorsed by the studio,
which wants to keep him in roly-poly
shape. Swimming, it appears, is an infal-
lible reducer.

All Smiley's fellow-players have had
plunges in his pool during lunch hour and
after a hard day of buckarooing. Burnette
was pretty irate about the situation until
the doctor told him anger was another
certain way to lose weight.

H Toward the climax of the hoss racing
season it is becoming customary to
refer to missing actors, directors and pro-
ducers as being on "Lot 4" at Metro. Metro
has only three lots. The fourth is what-
ever race track is open in the neighbor-
hood.

9 One of the purest cases of sadism ever
perpetrated on a movie set was dis-
covered at Paramount on the Moo?i Over
Burma stage. The setting was a tropical
cafe full of tourists and atmosphere people.
On every table were overflowing glasses
of beer.

A visitor to the set, suffering from the
heat of an Indian Summer day, asked why
the extras didn't drink the beer so lavishly
provided for them.

"They wouldn't like it," an assistant
director explained. "The property men

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spike it with hot water. Beer costs money
and it's a lot of trouble to keep replacing
it all day. And besides, the property chief
is a temperance man."

H In the midst of his first vacation in
four years, Akim Tamiroff was re-
called by his studio to record some addi-
tional dialogue on Texas Rangers Ride
Again.

The Russian menace rushed in from
Lake Tahoe, prepared to give his all for
Dear Old Production. The director rushed
him up to a microphone, instructed him
to say, "Joe Yuma" in a loud, clear voice,
and then excused him.

Motorists who encountered Tamiroff on
the way back to Tahoe reported that he
was giving off steam, lava and cinders like
Vesuvius in a fighting mood.

■ Brenda Marshall, just beginning to
hit her stride as a leading lady, thought
her first talent scout was a wolf.

This is the way it was. In the summer
of 1937 there was a young man working
for Warner Brothers named Hugh Mc-
Mullen. He was an Oxford graduate and a
walking encyclopedia of theatrical history
and Broadway gossip. He knew everybody
from Winchell to the second assistant bar-
tender at the Artists' and Writers' Club.
He was a talent scout.

That summer he saw 107 plays, one of
them a performance at Peterboro, N. H.,
of The Guardsman, at which he was
detailed to watch the work of a young
actor. He saw Brenda Marshall and began
firing wires at Hollywood, forgetting for-
ever the guy he had come to inspect.

From there on Mr. McMullen's case-
beck on Marshall reads as follows:

"Spotted her the minute she walked
onstage. Saw she couldn't miss. Some-
thing dark and lustrous there; kind of
fire. Knew she could act.

"Went backstage to break glad tidings.
Got brushed off good. Frostiest reception
McM. ever got anywhere. No like Holly-
wood, afraid of it, never change mind.
No like McM. Afraid of him too."

Brenda turned down an offer of a part
in a Broadway stage play sponsored by
Warners and directed by Mr. McMullen.
Gloria Dickson took the job, made a hit,
went straight to Hollywood as a result.

Hal Wallis, Warners production chief,
finally got infected by McMullen's en-
thusiasm. Offered Brenda a test. Brenda
didn't want a test. Offered her a contract
without a test. No dice.

hNHH

Eventually, Brenda and Burbank got
together, the result being accomplished
by a wearing-down process. Most of the
wearing-down was done on Mr. McMul-
len who says he aged forty years. Also,
some hard times had set in in the New
York theatre and Brenda's private life.

McMullen and Marshall went West at
the same time, the talent scout turning
straight to the extent of becoming dia-
logue director on the first William Holden
picture, Golden Boy. For more than a
year, he and Holden shared a house
together.

Mr. Holden and Miss Marshall will
probably be married before the year is
out, which will leave Mr. McMullen, the
"wolf" out in the cold where wolves
belong.

Mr. McMullen's current assignment is as
dialogue director of East of the River.
The star is Brenda Marshall.

Find the moral to this story and we
will send you Mr. McMullen.

j Ernst Lubitsch relates a paradoxical
yarn about Emmerich Kalman, the
European musical genius who was im-
ported to Hollywood, signed to a studio
contract and offered his choice of writers
to provide the scenario.

"Perhaps we can provide you with a
friend, someone you have worked with
before," the studio head suggested. "Do
you know the playwright Vajda?"

"Vajda?" the musician chortled. "He is
like my brother. Incomparably the great-
est mind in the theatre."

"Good!"' the producer approved. "Then
I shall not offer you the services of Bus-
Fekete."

"But Bus-Fekete is already immortal,"
Kalman said. "He has written the truest,
the most beautiful plays ever produced."

"Bus-Fekete and Vajda are both accept-
able to you," the producer beamed. "Then
I shall not offer you Reisch."

"Reisch? Reisch? I never heard of him."

"Then," said the producer, "all you have
to do is make a choice between Vajda
and Bus-Fekete."

"I want neither of them," Kalman said.
"I'll take Reisch."

CROSSWORD PUZZLE
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Dietrich and Seven Sinners

[Continued from page 23]

then only met him at her champagne bust
that traditionally celebrates the start of
one of her pictures. Tay Garnett, the di-
rector, was there, Joseph Pasternak,
Wayne and Rudolph Mate, cameraman.

Mr. Wayne is likely to grow on Miss
Dietrich, for Mr. Wayne has been growing
outrageously fast as a young man who
can harry the feminine pulse. It has not
been long since this John Morrison, of
Iowa, was spotted by director Raoul
Walsh. Walsh took one gander at Mr.
Wayne's walk and was so impressed by
its ambulatory beauty he hung around a
street corner for two hours just to get an-
other glimpse of Mr. Wayne in stride. Mr.
Wayne did considerable walking in Stage-
coach and managed to stroll from there
into a good many leading man roles. Right
now Mr. Wayne is so busy that he is
harder to get for picture roles than wim-
min at Little America. Give Mr. Wayne
a chance and he may push Mr. Gable out
of first place in the Dietrich league.

■ As Dorothy Henderson, the governor's
dotter, Anna Lee gets her first crack
at American cinema. The role of Dorothy
Henderson isn't exactly lovable, for she
is the gal who conspires to have Bijou de-
ported in order to keep Lt. Whitney for
herself. Actually, Anna Lee looks about
as villainous as a Ming vase. But she is
a sturdy sportswoman, and an exception-
ally good shot. Once Miss Lee was out
hunting in Egypt and had just drawn a
bead on a jackal. She was about to rub
out the beast when it stood up and became
an Englishman named Robert Stevenson.
Miss Lee married him.

When Mr. Stevenson came to America
to direct Tom Brown's School Days, Miss
Lee followed with their two-year-old
progeny expecting to have a nice holiday
in Hollywood. But Mr. Pasternak met her,
signed her and cast her in Seven Sinners.

Miss Dietrich had a strong hand in
getting Miss Lee her part. It happened
when Miss Dietrich heard that Miss Lee
was testing for the role and that Miss Lee
was having a case of the jitters. Miss
Dietrich stayed over a whole evening on
the lot to help the young lady. She played
opposite Miss Lee in the test, calmed her
with advice. The result was that Miss Lee
breezed through the test and into the part.

H Some of the early scenes in Seven
Sinners were shot during harrowing
heat and some carnage resulted. The
carnage hit Tay Garnett, the director, the
hardest. Mr. Garnett was a surprising
casualty, too, because he has been in hot
places before. In fact, he was particularly
qualified to handle Seven Sinners because
he had sailed his 107-foot yawl, Athene,
through the very South Seas he was film-
ing. As a result, Mr. Garnett selected the
native types for the flicker, even became
an authority on what sort of merchandise
should go into the native shops. It is a
sad commentary on California climate
that the dried Los Angeles river bottom
should slap down a veteran like Mr.
Garnett.

It happened whilst he was fixing to
screen a street and water-front scene. A
full-fledged steamer sat on the dry sand,
belching black smoke. A couple hundred
coolies, assorted sepia-hued offspring,
long-horned oxen, goats, chickens and
naval officers roamed the muddy street.
It was 100° in the shade. Mr. Garnett, a
stickler for long rehearsals, toiled stripped
to the waist, but it didn't help. With a
dismal exhalation Mr. Garnett collapsed.
Miss Dietrich, looking as cool as a stein
of German beer, rushed to his side with a
handkerchief filled with ice. With the ice
on his brow and Miss Dietrich's duckings
in his ear, Mr. Garnett came around and
finished the picture which had very nearly
finished him.

It is a story about a girl war correspondent and an American aviator in the Spanish
war that brings Claudette Colbert and Ray Milland to the screen in the film, Arise,
My Love. This scene is the beginning of an air raid, one of the dramatic high-lights

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Joan Bennett who's in Son
of Monte Cristo, likes pale
polish with delicately colored
stones. Jewels by Gershgorn

Above, Dorothy Lamour's
hands are dramatic with dark
polish and jewels by Brock.
She is in Moon Over Burma

In Loving Hands

Beautiful rings deserve beautiful hands ...
and viee versa! Take a tip from the movie
stars and give your hands the regular eare
that produces the soft white hands of romance

By ANN VERNON

H Everyone is looking at your hands.
Are they admiring your new engage-
ment ring, noticing that the first six
months of housekeeping haven't ruined
your pretty hands after all, or thinking
that such awkward, ill-kept paws will
never win a man? Hands to be loved, to
deserve a ring, have to be lovely!

You can be pretty sure that when a top-
flight star like Joan Bennett or Dottie
Lamour sports a new diamond, her hands
will be as well worth looking at as the
ring! In the picture above, Joan wears a
complete jewel set — clip, bracelet, ear
bows and huge square ring fashioned of
diamonds as yellow as sunshine, and
rubies. Joan's dress is of blended lemon
and chartreuse, but her fingernails (and
her lips, because of course they must
match nail shades) are a soft coral pink,
for quiet contrast. Dottie Lamour, who
is a vivid person herself, likes deep dark
nails the same shade as her ruby red wool
jersey gown with her single sparkling

diamond ring. Her gem is oval shaped
with pointed ends, and goes nicely with
her long tapered nails and slender grace-
ful hands. Dottie's "shower" clip of
diamonds is especially designed to finish
off a v-neckline — and don't miss those

DO YOU HOLD A WINNING HAND?

You can make yours lovely enough to get
any man if you follow the beauty hints
given in this article. Write Ann Vernon
for help with your other beauty problems
as well. She'll be glad to advise you on
dry or oily skin, dull hair, or help you
select the correct hair style and make-up
for your features and coloring. Send a
stamped, (U. S. postage, please) self-
addressed envelope with your letter to
Ann Vernon, HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway, New York City.

diamond butterflies on the Lamour ears.

Probably your own ring won't be as
large a solitaire as Joan's, nor will you
have Dottie's diamond clip and bracelet to
wear with it. Not all of us can be movie
stars or millionaires either! But we can
have lovely looking rings, and pretty
hands, too! If your young man isn't as rich
as he might be (ten years from now) , why
not select a cluster ring? Made up of many
small diamonds, it gives quite as much
sparkle as a huge rose-cut solitaire. You
can have the diamonds set in a large circle,
in a heart, or a lovers' knot! Or surround
a small square-cut diamond with baguette
diamonds, to make it look larger and more
impressive. All this if your hands are long
and slender. But if you wear a 5V2 glove,
stick to the smaller stones. Select a single
diamond, with as much fire and color as
your fiance can afford. Your jeweler will
explain about them when you go along to
choose the ring that looks best on you.

You don't have to have diamonds only
in your engagement ring — though the blue
white diamond is the traditional stone be-
cause it is so pure. You can combine
rubies, or sapphires, or emeralds (even
the less expensive stones like amethyst
and aquamarine and topaz) with diamonds
to make a ring that is definitely yours. But
if you do go in for color in a ring, be care-
ful forever after that the clothes and
make-up and especially the nail polish
you wear harmonize with it. A white dia-
mond goes with everything, but rubies
have to meet their match, and emeralds

and sapphires like a not-too-vivid con-
trast. Yellow gold is coming back into
style for wedding and engagement rings,
but it, like yellow toned aquamarine and
topaz, demands a golden tinge in nail
polish and make-up.

Naturally the wearing qualities of your
nail polish are every bit as important to
you as its color. What's the good of having
a glorious new sparkler if it calls attention
to chipping nail polish and splitting nails?
Most nail polishes nowadays are pretty
durable, but there's one in particular that
goes through so many severe tests in the
making that the manufacturer could prac-
tically guarantee it — against chipping at
the tips, fading or losing its gloss, or soak-
ing off in the dishpan. The sand test is one
of the most important of these. Thousands
of tiny grains are run over samples of each
batch of lacquer, for a period of hours, at
high speed. In that time the lacquer takes
many more hard knocks, much tougher
wear and tear, than it will have to endure
on your hands in a week!

Would you ever stick your pretty digits
into boiling water? Not if you knew it,
I'll bet. But the polish you wear has been
in worse than that — submerged for good-
ness knows how long in boiling brine.
And you probably know by now, even if
you are only a bride, that salt water boils
at a much higher temperature than fresh!
There's a sun lamp test, too, just one more
of the many various processes this polish
has to go through before it's pronounced
fit for your hands. This particular lamp

exposure proves that the polish won't fade
or lose color when you take your late fall
sun bath or relax under a sun lamp.

All three of these tests, and yet another
that checks the reactions of color under
the various types of lighting — daylight,
candlelight, harsh electric lights — were
used when the manufacturer recently de-
veloped two new fall shades. One is a riot-
ous bright red, South American in its
intensity, and brilliant in sheen. It would
go with diamonds, with topaz and tourma-
line and aquamarines, and even with sap-
phires— though I'd prefer the same manu-
facturer's soft rosy shade with that lady-
like gem. And you can wear it as well with
black, the new fall navy and grey, and
with reds, browns and rusty orange tones
we've taken over from our neighbors
south of the border . . . The other shade
is a deep red slightly on the blue side —
it would be perfect with rubies, and ruby
or wine jersey dresses, with the new blue-
berry purples, as well as greens of all
colors and intensities. The polish itself is
inexpensive, and long wearing, truly a
bargain that anyone can afford.

| Hands that wear diamonds aren't al-
ways pampered. As you'll find when
the honeymoon's over and you start the
daily round of dishes and beds and all
the sundry household tasks that go with
being Mrs. But even though you work
your fingers to the bone, from seven in the
morning till long after dinner, they mustn't
look it! Men are funny about that — they

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That fine, tastier flavor of Beech-Nut Gum will last you a mighty
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like hands that can do things, but they
want them soft and white and daintily
manicured. Which isn't such a difficult
"want" to please, if you're careful always
to use a fine hand cream or a lubricating
hand lotion after having your hands in
water. Keep a bottle of the lotion on the
kitchen window sill, just above the sink
drainboard, and smooth some on after dry-
ing the dishes and your hands. Be sure to
use plenty of the lotion and to massage it
well into every knuckle, all down the backs
of your hands, and up your wrists and arms
to your elbows. The hand lubricant I'm
talking about has been around for over
fifty years, and it's a lot better today than
it was when grandmama used it back when
she was a bride. The manufacturer has
been improving it all along, and just re-
cently he brought out a fine hand cream
that has all the good points of the lotion —
plus! The same lubricating qualities are
there, the same delicately faint scent. The
cream is not sticky, but it makes a grand
powder base (because it keeps the skin
soft and smooth, and prevents chapping) .
If you like your hand cream in jar form,
I know you'll like this one. It's extra good,
by the way, as an overnight hand cream,
because it keeps right on smoothing and
softening the hands while you sleep. The
cream comes in 10 and 30 cent sizes, and
there's a dime size of the lotion, too. Want
the name of these handy twins?

9 Are you one of those people who just
can't grow nails? I know how you feel,
because I went through it all myself. Mine
were splitting, chipping nails, always
breaking off — and I would have done any-
thing to grow healthy, decently long ones.
Foolishly, I went so far as to give up
polish for a while — and got royally razzed
for my pains, because that didn't do any
good either! But finally I got scientific
about the matter, arranged my diet to get
the proper amount of nail building vita-
mins and calcium and minerals (lotsa
fresh fruits, vegetables and milk will do
the trick for you) , and set to work using
a special lotion that's supposed to
strengthen the nails. I applied this around
the base of the nail and cuticle morning
and night — and I wish you could see my
nails now. They're beautiful!

Other things that help: Don't ever put
your hands in really hot water — lukewarm
water and a mild soap will take off any
dirt, are much easier on hands and nails.
Always rub a bit of your cold cream into
the nails when you cream your face . . .
A little goes a long way, too, as you'll find
when you use it. Want to know more?

■ Naturally even the strongest nails
break on occasions. And usually those
are just the occasions you've wanted to
look your best! Weep no more! The dam-
age can be remedied quickly, with arti-
ficial nails. Haven't you tried them? They
can be shaped to fit right over your own
sawed-off nails, filed any length, polished
any color. No one can tell the difference
between true and false, because these arti-
ficial ones even have "moons." You won't
be embarrassed by their dropping off when
you pick up a cup of coffee or a cocktail.
They're waterproof, and applied with a

waterproof lacquer so they stay on till
you remove them! Twenty cents buys a
set of ten — interested?

Dark nail polish hides a multitude of sins
— but there's always the day you remove
it for your manicure. Are you shocked to
discover just how dirty your nails have
been under the polish? You won't be if
you keep a nail brush handy and use it
every time you wash your hands. Metal
nail cleaners and nail files, you know, are
likely to injure the nail itself, and to push
back the skin underneath the free edge so
your nail looks shorter. A nail brush gets
the dirt out quickly, easily, without irri-
tating the skin, or scratching the under
surface of the nail. And I'll be glad to give
you the name of a well-known brush
manufacturer who makes nail brushes in
several styles, priced at 25 and 50 cents.

STOP THE PRESS! I've just heard
about an exciting new shade of one of
your favorite ten cent lipsticks. It's a deep
dark ruby red, just made to blend with
the ruby toned polish — and all the fall
clothes that goes with. The lipstick is
creamy smooth, will neither smear nor
dry the lips, and is specially packaged in
a stunning black case with two gold
"wedding bands" around the cap. There
are harmonizing shades of rouge and face
powder, too. All three are sold for a dime
apiece at stores near you. Interested?

Write to me before November 15th
if you want the names of any of the prod-
ucts mentioned in this article. Be sure
to enclose a stamped (U. S. postage,
please), self-addressed envelope and
send your letter to Ann Vernon, Beauty
Editor, HOLLYWOOD Magazine, 1501
Broadway, New York City.

Vera Gilmer was born in California but
did not become famous until she became
a model in New York. She recently flew
back to her home town to appear
on the Lux Radio Theatre as a guest

They Always Get Their Girl

[Continued from page 29]

which made her mouth drop open in
astonishment. Certainly for abrasions and
contusions, she had nothing on this.

The object sank exhausted to a tree
stump and then broke into exultant laugh-
ter as a second object, equally battered,
hove into view and flopped with a sigh
to the ground. Ladeez and Gentlemen, in
this corner on the stump we have Battling
Paulette Goddard, her buckskin clothes
and brilliant red and blue Mackinaw in
shreds, her long braids of inky hair yanked
into wild disarray. And in this corner, on
the ground, we have the roughneck she's
just fought to a standstill — Lynne Over-
man, with mud down his neck and the
makings of a swell black eye.

To know how come, you'd better first
know something of the plot. To start at
the beginning, the picture has five stars;
Madeleine, Paulette, Gary, Robert Preston
who was co-starred with Dorothy Lamour
in Typhoon, and Preston Foster. It deals
with the uprising fifty years ago of the
Metis Nation, a mixture of Scotch, French
and Dutch pioneers in Canada who inter-
married with the Indians.

Government surveyors, re-mapping the
North West wilderness shortly before the
picture opens, have divided the farmlands
unjustly, or so the Metis charge. Hence
the revolt — Riel's Rebellion, led by Louis
Riel — with only a handful of Mounted
Police in the whole vast territory to en-
force the law.

April Logan (Madeleine Carroll) , her
brother, Constable Ronnie Logan (Robert
Preston) , and Sergeant Jim Bret (Preston
Foster) , are Canadians. Louvette (Paul-
ette Goddard) is a French and Indian
half-breed. Dusty Rivers (Gary Cooper),
U. S. Marshal and Texas Ranger, is the
one American.

You've rarely seen a meanie such as
Jacque Corbeau (George Bancroft), the
killer that Dusty Rivers has traveled alone
from Texas to arrest. Corbeau ties political
and personal affairs into knots, and things
aren't helped when Dusty falls in love
with April, the girl Sergeant Jim Bret
has made up his mind to marry. Moreover,
Louvette, who is herself fiercely in love
with April's brother, entices Ronnie by
deceit from his post as sentinel; with the
result that almost the entire detachment
of Mounted Police is massacred by the
rebels. Just seven men escape.

Throughout the plot, flares the rivalry
between Gary and Preston Foster, between
the Texas Ranger and the North West
Mounted, as to who gets his man — and
woman.

Meanwhile, Paulette very nearly "gets"
Lynne Overman.

It happened at Batoche, a Metis settle-
ment plumped down in the midst of the
immense waste into which Stage 8 and
adjoining territory were converted. In
the pine-scented afternoon, Paulette stood
near the ramshackle store at the cross-
roads, her hands full of furs, saying in a
sweet, ingenuous voice: "Buy my ermines,
pliss? Ver' nize ermines — "

A lovely, slinky creature, Louvette.

Gary Cooper, newly arrived in Batoche
and conspicuous because of his Texas
Ranger apparel, regarded her with inter-
est. But Lynne Overman, who has the
role of loyal Scotch-Indian Tod McDuff,
warned him. "Dinna buy furrrs from yon
daughter o' Beelzebub. She steals 'em."
Which, as a matter of fact, she does.

In an instant the sweetness left Paul-
ette's voice, the appeal in her dark eyes
changed to hate. With a lightning gesture
she drew a knife and plunged at Overman.
For a while he defended himself, laughing,
using his rifle to ward off her thrusts.
But Paulette broke through his guard
with a sudden, lithe movement, and
climbed him like a wildcat. Lynne twisted
the knife from her hand, and over and
over they rolled in the road, Gary and
the rest of the crowd watching with varied
emotions.

Finally, Lynne pinioned Paulette's hands
and began to belabor her while she
screeched and scratched, bit and kicked,
in undiminished rage. But suddenly
Robert Preston, as Ronnie, her Constable
sweetheart, raced thunderously into the
melee and stopped it by an enthusiastic
offer to knock Lynne's teeth down his
throat. Louvette still breathed fire as she
was dragged off from one of the best
scraps the movies have witnessed in years.
By comparison, Paulette's altercation with
Roz Russell in The Women shrinks to a
mere skirmish.

Yet DeMille had hesitated a long time
before assigning this role to Paulette. His
description of the somewhat extravagant
requirements for the part, meanwhile,
intrigued all and sundry, including his
next door neighbor, W. C. Fields. Fields
hailed him one morning across the hedge.
"I hear you're searching for a siren with
the allure of Circe, the fire of Carmen, and
the primitive instincts of a black panther?"

"That's the kind of a girl I want,"
answered DeMille.

"Who doesn't?" said Fields.

But Paulette felt none of DeMille's hesi-
tation about casting the part. She called
on him and asked for it. Rejected as not
the type, she called twice again; the second
time in costume and make-up, the third
with a French Canadian accent that was
a honey. "Most determined woman I've
met," DeMille sighed in surrender. It
seems that since four years ago, when she
was practically unknown, Paulette — bent
on acting in a DeMille picture — had sent
the Director a postcard every week. It
read: "When are you going to have that
part for me?"

DeMille considers the character of Lou-
vette one of the most fascinating he has
helped create. For he had much to do with
the creation not only of this character
but of the plot itself. A film about the
North West Mounted Police was his own
idea. He outlined the theme, the gallantry
and similarity of the Canadian Mounted
and the Texas Rangers, before turning
it over to the scenarists.

Among these scenarists is Jesse Lasky,
Jr., son of DeMille's early partner in the

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CATARRH

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HAVING A BABY?

Regular medical careduring
pregnancy i9 vitally important.
Your doctor can regulate diet to
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teeth and sound physical
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Ask his advice on feed-
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*vrv*

^**0

SAFER because
easier to dean I

picture industry. Among the members of
the cast are the sons of two stars DeMille
knew in the silent days; Lon Chaney, Jr.,
and Wally Reid, Jr. This is DeMille's
first all-color film, but his first experi-
ments in color were with Wally's father
in 1915.

And guess who's another notable mem-
ber of the company? The famous Shake-
spearean actor, Walter Hampden. As Chief
Big Bear he plays his first celluloid role.

■ The cast finally selected, DeMille
planned sets worthy of the high per-
centage of talent it contained. Some of
the battles with the Metis, such as the
massacre of the Mounted at Duck Lake,
where the Metis had the first gatling gun
used in warfare on this Continent, took
place amid the natural scenery of the
Sierras and of Oregon. But for half a
dozen sets on the studio lot, the Director
sponsored a miracle of transformation.

A whole forest was brought down from
the high Sierras, many of the pines as tall
as a 10-story building, and planted in
6,000 tons of earth over long, sweeping
ramps like hillsides, to form a Canadian
upland glen. The top slope could be seen
four miles from the studio.
. Nearby was the Metis crossroads hamlet
of Batoche, and not far away was an
Indian village complete with strings of
dried fish over the fires, plus a Fort
Carleton with barracks for scores of
Mounted Police. They were sets of such
magnitude and detail as to knock even
Hollywood back on its heels.

Against this kind of background, the
story marched in a pageant of blazing
hues, actual and emotional. The log walls
of Fort Carleton, as example, enclosed a
sequence of agonizing tension when fifty
Mounted Police, barricaded with Dusty
Rivers and Inspector Cabot (Montagu
Love), awaited the possible onslaught of
thousands of the enemy.

In history, this crisis took place at Fort
Pitt, Saskatchewan. The officer who led
the masterly retreat down the ice blocked
river, and received a citation for saving
his men, was Inspector Francis Jeffrey
Dickens — third son of Charles Dickens, the
author.

■ The assembling of that Metis army
had its excitement, too. Were those
forces a spectacle! And was Akim Tami-
roff a sight!

As aide to the idealistic Louis Riel
(Francis MacDonald) , Dan Duroc (Akim)
undertook to lick the rebel army into
shape. Sporting a red, green and yellow
blanket, and a frowsy beard, Akim rode
a white horse down the line of Metis and
shouted military orders which they sensa-
tionally misunderstood. Half of them
didn't know right hand from left, and
didn't care.

It was a pretty sight, while Akim rested,
to see an assistant director during rehear-
sals trot daintily down the line in the role
of Akim's horse; to give the cameras the
range and the army the cue. Two genuine
husky dogs from the Artie Circle, with
packs on their yellow-white backs and
with black, anxious eyebrows, sprawled
near the disorganized ranks for atmos-
phere.

B How different the situation around the
corner! There the Mounted Police
were learning things from Sergeant Major
G. F. Grifhn, authentically of the Mounted,
from Regina, Saskatchewan. Sergeant
Major Griffin, on "detached duty," had
been borrowed by DeMille to drill these
actors according to Mounted manual, and
he jolly well drilled 'em.

After two weeks of it, Preston Foster
had lost 8 pounds, Bob Preston 4, Mon-
tagu Love 14. Altogether, fifty of them
dropped a total of 312 pounds. Gary
Cooper, who as a Texas Ranger was the

Fawcett photo by Rhodes
It is a gay party at The Pirates' Den, but the stars are absorbed in the sedate
entertainment of looking at the children's pictures. Fred MacMurray holds the
folding frame while Mrs. Gary Cooper and Ray Milland wait their turns for a look

only male principal that didn't have to
drill, stood on the sidelines and grinned.

From the drill ground the "rookies"
could see the towering, synthetic forest.
And when they were sufficiently expert
in Mounted maneuvers, it was through
this forest that seven of them made their
way — the "thin red line" of massacre sur-
vivors— in the greatestscene of the picture.

In that scene, George Bancroft, as Cor-
beau, stood in the center of a throng of
half-naked Indians, Chief Big Bear at his
side. You'd never recognize the fiery
Romeo or the dreamy Hamlet behind the
eagle feathers, loin cloth and beads that
Walter Hampden wore; though a dignified
and magnificent Chief he was.

As proof that the Mounted Police had
been completely wiped out in the battle at
Duck Lake, and as an inducement to the
Crees to join the rebellion, Bancroft had
brought an armful of equipment stripped
from the dead. Here and there an Indian
warrior held a scarlet coat aloft on a spear.
One staff had a riding boot and spur on its
tip. As Bancroft harangued them, the
redskins broke into a savage war dance.

But unexpectedly, from far up the
wooded hillside, rang the sharp, authori-
tative notes of a bugle. The dancers froze
in their tracks. Complete silence fell. The
only movement was the lazy curl of smoke
from the open top of a teepee.

Down the slope and into view came
Sergeant Jim Bret and the remnant of the
Mounted, a trickle of scarlet among the
dark green trees. Chief Big Bear glanced
briefly at Corbeau. "So dead men ride,"
he said.

Faithfully that episode of 1885 was re-
enacted. Looking neither to the right nor
to the left, their guns at rest across the
saddles, their pistol holsters not even
unfastened, the troopers of fifty years ago
had ridden straight and unfaltering into
the midst of those hundreds of Indians,
straight to where the Chief stood, narrow-
eyed.

Impressed by this heroism, suspicious
now of the rebel messenger's word, the
Chief remained motionless for an endless
moment . . . then greeted the Mounted as
friends. The Crees would not fight the
Crown. The rebellion was doomed.

E There were other scenes less full of
war, more full of sentiment. One,
where Gary finds Madeleine consumed
with worry over brother Ronnie, is a
masterpiece of tender wooing. He almost
won her then. "April Logan" was about
ready to fall into his arms.

But if April Logan didn't fall into his
arms, there were thirty-two other girls
ready to do so, all at once; a remark that
calls for explanation. Gary dropped in
at the barber shop opposite Paramount
studio. The word flew around somehow
that Gary was getting a haircut.

By the time he came out, thirty-two
girls were at the door, clamoring for auto-
graphs. Gary was needed immediately in
a scene, and a couple of policemen had to
clear a path for him back to the studio
gate. On top of this, they had to rescue
the barber; thirty-two gals were mob-
bing him for a snip of Gary's hair!

That— by gosh— is REALLY fame.

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Mary Astor likes to make her guests sit on the floor and eat with chop-
sticks, hut Chinese food tastes just as good from forks. You will see Miss
Astor next in Brigham Young, exciting tale of the Mormon leader

Exotic Chinese dishes are not difficult to serve if
yon follow the easy cooking rules in this article

By BETTY CROCKER

■ Mary Astor's Chinese
party was not merely
a delightful inspiration;
it was an idea that de-
veloped quite logically
when she was trying to
think of a way to make
some expected guests
unbend and go informal.

The unbending, it
turned out, was a
literal description of
what happened. She
made them all sit on the floor!

Nobody can be stiff and formal while
sitting crosslegged on a pillow and wres-
tling with chopsticks. The party turned
out, in consequence, to be such a success
that Miss Astor has repeated it on many
occasions.

All you need are some low tables, some
pillows, and a determination to try out
some Chinese food and make it taste as
good as it sounds. Of course all you really
need do is order some chow mein at the
corner and serve it up hot with tea and
rice cakes. But if you are more ambitious,
you can serve some of the real Chinese
dishes that call for a list of exotic ingredi-
ents such as water chestnuts and bamboo
sprouts, fried noodles, white mushrooms.
These can be obtained, fresh, in large cities
where there are Chinese supply houses

and grocery stores. But

they also come in cans

and your dealer can get

them for you if he does

not have them in stock.

The most important

thing to remember, Mary

Astor says, is that the

Chinese cook vegetables

very quickly and very

little. The approved

general rule is to start

most vegetables in cold

water, bring it to a boil, and remove the

vegetables after half a minute of boiling.

With the Chinese food you serve, Mary

suggests that you pour jasmine tea.

Chinese drink it without sugar, cream or

lemon. Delicate, crisp rice cakes are sold

in cans and are a suitable dessert.

Now for the recipes:

CHOW SUB GUM MEIN

Cut Vz lb. fresh pork in small slices.
Chop the following into bite-sized pieces:

1 green pepper

Vz can pimento

1 stalk celery

6 water chestnuts

% cup bamboo shoots

12 white mushrooms
Fry pork in a hot greased pan until

done. Add all vegetables except pimento.
Add 1 cup soup stock, 3 tablespoons soy
sauce, 1 teaspoon sugar. Simmer until
done. This takes a very short time be-
cause vegetables should not lose all of
their crispness.

Mix 1 tablespoon cornstarch in cold
water, add to the mixture. Leave on fire
until starch is well cooked.

Put three cups fried noodles on a large
plate. Spread chop suey mixture all over
the noodles, and sprinkle with small bits
of the pimento for a colorful garnish.

CHINESE SPARERIBS

2 lbs. pork spareribs

1 tbsp. shortening

2 tbsp. brown sugar

3 tbsp. cornstarch
% cup cider vinegar
Vi cup cold water

1 cup pineapple juice

1 tbsp. soy sauce

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

% cup green pepper, cut in pieces

Vz cup sliced onion

1 cup diced pineapple

Ask your butcher to separate the spare-
ribs and cut into 1-inch pieces. Cook in
lightly salted water to cover until tender
(about 1 hour). Drain them well. Brown
in hot vegetable shortening. Combine
brown sugar, cornstarch; add vinegar,
water, pineapple juice, soy sauce and
Worcestershire sauce; add to spareribs.
Cook until slightly thickened (about 5
minutes, stirring occasionally) . Add green
pepper, onion and pineapple. Cook only
until vegetables are just tender, but still
crisp. Serve immediately. (This recipe
will serve from 6 to 8 persons.)

EGG FOO YUNG

Prepare % cup finely chopped bacon,
ham, or any roasted meat; Vi cup shredded

onions; Vi cup sliced water chestnuts, and
1 cup bean sprouts.

Beat 5 eggs with the above ingredients

until the mixture is of a thick consistency.

Divide into six portions, mold into a

cup and drop very carefully into hot

cooking oil in frying pan. Cook on one

side until brown. Turn and cook on other

side until brown. (This serves 3 persons.)

Egg Foo Yung may be varied by omitting

bacon or ham and substituting:

y% cup finely cut chicken meat

or
Vz cup cooked (or canned) shrimp

or
% cup finely shredded lobster

FREE

Bsfty Crocker's Chinese-Style
Recipes for American Use

Doesn't Mary Astor's party sound like
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to go right out and invite your friends
to a Chinese supper. Betty Crocker can
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that make simply delicious concoctions.
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Chinese Method for Cooking Rice, etc.

So invite your friends for a Chinese
supper and send the attached coupon
to Betty Crocker for her Six FREE
American-Style Chinese Recipes.

Betty Crocker,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine,
1501 Broadway, N. Y. C.

Please send me — without charge — your
Six American-Style Chinese Recipes.

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Town Clown

[Continued from page 19]

eventually blow the roof off the sound
stage.

Hollywood isn't quite sure whether
Gregory Ratoff is unconsciously funny or
whether he puts on an act. Probably it's
a combination of the two. It is certain,
at least, that he enjoys amusing people,
that he could have lost his accent years
ago if it had not been such an important
theatrical asset.

A Russian character actor named
Leonid Snegoff summed up Gregory
RatofFs chaotic accent pretty well when
he complained that Ratoff had spoiled the
Russian acting business in Hollywood.
Snegoff said:

"Studio casting directors no longer want
Russians with Russian accents. They
want Russians with Ratoff accents."

Sample Ratoff dialogue filled the air at
the 20th Century-Fox studio recently when
he made his farewell appearance as an
actor in the role of John Barrymore's
manager in The Great Profile, and some-
one asked him:

"Gregory, I can't understand why a
fellow who can act like you wants to be
a director."

Ratoff snorted. "Hah," he said. "So
you can't, eh? Veil, I show you. Watch
me closely. I am giving to you an imita-
tion of an actor after the twenty-fifth
time he has played the same scene."

Gregory Ratoff staggered wearily into
the camera's range. His pantomime was
a grotesque background for his mono-
logue.

"So the director say, 'Let's do it again.'
And the actor say, 'Vy?' And the director
say, 'I didn't like it.' And the actor
says, 'Vy?' And the director says, 'I don't
know, let's do it again like you did it the
first time.' And the actor says, T don't
remember how I did it the first time.'
And the director says, 'Hokay, let's call
the whole scene off.' "

There was no argument. Gregory
Ratoff knew what he was talking about.
Ratoff usually knows what he is talk-
ing about despite the fact that his com-
ments invariably are amusing. Some of
them make pretty good sense. After a
rifle held by Warner Baxter failed to go
off for a scene, for example, Ratoff said:
"That's the kind of rifles the Russians
had in the war. That's why I became an
American."

On another occasion Gregory Ratoff was
asked if he knew a certain writer's wife.
"No," he replied. "I've never met his
wife. But I know the girl he goes around
with."

Gregory Ratoff's favorite words are
"wonderful," "colossal," and "sensational."
He pronounces the latter as "sansa-
shional." After Ann Sothern played a
scene in Hotel for Women, Ratoff told
her: "You were sansashional."

"Tell me the truth," replied Miss
Sothern. "Was I good?"

"If I said it was good," answered Ratoff.
"it would mean I think it is terrible."

With the exceptions of Director Michael
Curtiz and Producer Samuel Goldwyn,

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Brian Aherne, Mary Pickford and Joan Fontaine at Mrs. Basil Bathbone's showing of
Cavalcade and Shoulder Arms, to raise funds for benefit of the British Red Cross

Gregory Ratoff is without peer when it
comes to mangling the King's English.

A score of extras, most of them Chinese,
were huddled on a railroad station plat-
form for a scene in one of his pictures.
They'd been there presumably for hours
awaiting a train.

"Get tired, peoples," pleaded Ratoff.
"Get tired, please." The passengers
drooped to register exhaustion and the
scene was filmed.

"Dot's the way I like my actors," com-
mented Ratoff. "They should be care-
worn out."

On another picture Ratoff was giving
instructions to a group of women extras
he had just hired for a wedding scene the
following day. "I want you should wear
nice clothes for this wedding scene," he
said. "But this is a small town wedding.
Don't wear anything that looks like it
cost too much. No Paris cremations."
Half an hour later Ratoff was telling an
actress how she should react.

"You are wondering what this fellow
really thinks about you," he tells her. "You
say to yourself, 'Does he love me or does
he doesn't.' "

And while ranting around another set,
Gregory Ratoff noticed an expression of
pain in Alice Faye's eyes. "Pay no atten-
tion to me," he said. "Don't let me get
your goats."

Miscellaneous, unclassifiable Gregory
Ratoff stories range all the way from an
anecdote concerning Indians to one about
a concentration camp.

When Ratoff walked into the Fox studio
cafe and spotted twelve Blackfeet Indians
who were currently working on the lot,
he turned to a companion and said, "If
I wasn't so hungry I'd refuse to eating in
the same room with all those foreigners."

Ever since his debut on the Fox lot,
Ratoff has held a four way writer-actor-
director-producer contract. Someone
once telephoned him to hurry to the set.
"Sorry," replied Ratoff, "but I can't come
now. I am in conference with myself."

| Ratoff once went to see the new and
very costly home of Stephen Ames. He
inspected it from attic to swimming pool
without comment until he came to the
grand piano. "You should buy instead
an electric piano," he advised. "For a
man of your money it looks undignified
to be playing a piano by hand."

Ratoff said he felt ill during production
of a recent film but he refused to stop
directing. He did consent to the taking of
his temperature at intervals, but he waved
aside a studio nurse, saying he would look
at the thermometer himself. Late in the
day he stuck the thermometer into his
mouth, looked at it and yelled: "Some-

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thing's wrong with this thermometer. I'm
a sick man and it only reads 103."

■ Stories about Gregory Ratoff's ex-
periences on the set, like the time

he showed Linda Darnell how to fall on a
bed, are endless.

One day they were doing a scene in
which Linda Darnell is in Tyrone Power's
arms. He is telling Linda how much he
loves her, and she is enjoying it until she
catches a whiff of the perfume worn by
her rival for Power's affections. Then
joy slowly ebbs from her face.

"Now, Linda," explains Gregory Ratoff.
"You are radiant until you hear the per-
fume and. . . ." But the company dis-
solves in laughter.

Again, Gregory Ratoff is directing a
scene in which a little mongrel dog is the
principal actor. The day is hot and the
little brute is not in his best form. The
trainer apologizes for taking so much
time.

"That's all right," Ratoff shrugs in mock
nonchalance. "It's only money we are
wasting."

On the day he completed directing an-
other picture Ratoff gave a party for the
cast on the set. During the party he
stood up and said he was going to teach
everyone to sing a Russian song. He ex-
plained the song and then said:

"When I raise my hand, everybody yell
'hey' — you know, the first letter in the
alphabet."

And there was the time when cigarette
smoke rolled out on the set.

"Stop that smoking," roared Ratoff,
glaring at the technical crew in the back-
ground.

He didn't see the culprit, though, be-
cause the offending cigarette was firmly
wedged between two of his own fingers.

Gregory Ratoff's last acting job, in The
Great Profile, found him pitted against
John Barrymore in an acting duel. "It
was St. Vitus vs. Epilepsy," said Barry-
more later.

It was early in the production that
Ratoff saw the futility of trying to steal
scenes from Barrymore. In one instance,
Director Walter Lang was explaining to
Ratoff what business to do in a scene in
which Barrymore had some dialogue.

"Don't bother about me," said Ratoff,
disgustedly. "I'll just sit here and rest.
The audience won't be looking at me any-
how. You know where they'll be look-
ing." And he wasn't kidding.

But even if he didn't get the chance to
steal the picture from Barrymore, Ratoff
did get the opportunity to prove to Holly-
wood that he can speak more than one
brand of bad English. In this film he
blossoms forth with a Southern Negro
dialect and sings Carry Me Back to Old
Virginny in blackface as a colored
Mammy. It brings back all the color of
the Old South — of Russia.

■ Ironically enough, Gregory Ratoff's
sense of the amusing — and of the

dramatic — was forged from many hard-
ships. Born in Samara, Russia, he
traveled with his family when he was a
child to St. Petersburg, where he decided
to become a lawyer. Enrolling in St.

Petersburg University, he struggled
through a law course, graduating with
honors, but his heart was never in it.

His every thought whirled about the
St. Petersburg Dramatic School, where
he also was studying, and when he finally
made his debut at the Maly Theatre as
a butler in Ostrovsky's Mad Money the
die was cast.

War clouds hovering over Europe,
though, halted that career, and Ratoff
soon found himself clicking boot heels
in the Russian army. The Russian revolu-
tion ended his war days. He joined a
stock company as a juvenile actor, finally
landing in Berlin with a dream of found-
ing his own Russian theatre.

The idea clicked, and he took his plays
from Berlin to Vienna, Budapest, London,
Paris and other European capitals. Lee
Shubert saw him singing and dancing
through a sketch at the Alhambra Theatre
in Paris, and a few days later Ratoff was
bound for New York City.

For the next few years he won renown
on Broadway by his character roles in
thirty-two Shubert plays and eight pro-
ductions staged by himself, including
Candlelight and The Kibitzer. While
appearing in the latter, he was spotted
by movie scouts who signed him for a
highly dramatic role in Symphony of Six
Million. His interpretation in that pic-
ture brought a flood of film offers and
since that time, except for a short excur-
sion into the British film field, he has
been one of the movie luminaries of
Hollywood.

He has written, produced and directed
many films. Among his recent directorial
achievements are Intermezzo, Everything
Happens at Night, Daytime Wife, Wife,
Husband and Friend, I Was an Adven-
turess and Hotel for Women.

■ Ratoff's marital life with Eugenie
Leontovich, the celebrated European
actress seen recently in Four Sons, has
been almost as chaotic as his theatrical
life. Wed in 1922, their careers have kept
them separated most of the time. She
has spent most of their eighteen years of
marriage portraying various roles on the
European stage, while he has been con-
centrating on Hollywood and New York.

Even their marriage and honeymoon
was unusual. They were portraying roles
in different American stock companies at
the time. They declared their love for
each other, met in a neutral town on a
Saturday morning, were married and
spent a week-end honeymoon. On Mon-
day morning they separated, returned to
their respective shows and did not see
each other again for nearly two months.

During Miss Leontovich's tours of the
Continent, and in the United States with
Grand Hotel and Tovarich, never a week
passed that Ratoff did not place a tele-
phone call to her. "But I seldom under-
stood what she was saying. It sounded
like half of Europe was trying to talk on
the same line." Now, because of the
European war and a Hollywood film
career as a result of her work in Four
Sons, Eugenie Leontovich and Gregory
Ratoff apparently are destined to live
happily ever after together in Hollywood.

A Smattering of Insolence

[Continued from page 27]

by everyone in the business. He acquired
a reputation as the Dillinger of the in-
dustry, and producers would shudder at
the mere mention of his name. He was
writing musical backgrounds for B pic-
tures at the time, and his position in the
films was none too secure. Yet, when he
heard that Mrs. David O. Selznick, wife
of the famous producer, was actually ad-
mitting that she was distantly related to
him, he accused her of being a snob and a
social climber.

If Oscar is what might be termed un-
reserved with casual acquaintances, he
is even more forthright with his intimates.
S. N. Behrman, who knows him perhaps
better than anyone, has referred in print
to "the spiked embrace of his friendship."
Friendship with Oscar means having your-
self periodically denounced as an imbecile,
a boor, an unfeeling wretch, a vile op-
portunist, a deluded egocentric and gen-
eral low-grade slob. However, it also
means that Oscar, when he is in form,
which is often, will provide you with bril-
liant conversation and with as fascinating
an exhibition of one or all of the human
emotions (in elaboration of some minor
point which has troubled him and which
he has built up during the day) as you
can get from the best and worst of the
world's literature.

Not that Oscar goes out of his way to
be piquant. His rudeness, unlike Alex-
ander Woollcott's, is not premeditated, but
springs rather from his own sensitivity.
A born hero-worshipper, he is constantly
testing his idols to see how much they can
endure under fire. He has an acute critical
faculty which makes him as unsparing of
himself as he is of others. When he and
his first wife were separating, after only
six or seven months of wedded life, a re-
porter observed, "Your marriage didn't
last long." "The hell it didn't," replied
Oscar. "Did you ever spend an hour with
me?" Oscar could also tell you about the
grounds for his divorce. "Incompatability,"
he would explain, adding confidentially,
"and besides, we hated each other."

Oscar was born in Pittsburgh, Pa., De-
cember 27, 1906. He was in his second
year at high school when his father died,
and he decided to come to New York to
study to be a concert pianist. His first job
was playing for little girls' ballet classes
at one dollar an hour. He also took lessons
with Sigismund Stojowski, a famed music
teacher. A photograpn of Stojowski's class,
taken to commemorate a visit by Pade-
rewski, shows Oscar to have been a dark,
solemn boy, with the thick lips and full,
squirrel cheeks which still punctuate his
face. He has yet to make the first of his
celebrated "jokes" in the Levant house-
hold, brother Ben was (and still is) con-
sidered the family wit.

After a few odd jobs, Oscar finally
landed with Ben Bernie's orchestra at
Ciro's. Here his hero-worshipping tenden-
cies first manifested themselves. To make
Bernie notice him, Oscar would continu-
ally disobey orders. Once they were
booked into the Rialto Theatre, where each

week the men were supposed to wear dif-
ferent costumes. One week they were
Swiss and wore little Swiss caps. To at-
tract attention, Oscar wouldn't wear his.
He was fired on an average of twice a
month. It wasn't until much later that he
was able to speak of "leaving Bernie in the
middle of one of his bad jokes."

Oscar made his stage debut in 1927,
playing the song writer in Arthur Hop-
kins' production of Burlesque which had
Hal Skelly and Barbara Stanwyck in the
leading roles. He began writing songs,
and the first one, Sweeping the Cobwebs
off the Moon, was a hit. He also collabo-
rated on some songs with Billy Rose, be-
fore that elf became a producer of mam-
moth spectacles. Burlesque played for
two years, after which it was bought by
the movies. Oscar went to Hollywood to
appear in the movie version, which sub-
sequently became famous, not because of
his participation, but, among other rea-
sons, because the producers renamed it
The Dance of Life, paying Havelock Ellis
$10,000 for the rights to his book of philo-
sophic essays, of which they used only the
title.

The talkies had then just about come in,
and Levant was given a contract by War-
ner Brothers to write scores for their
musicals. He did Street Girl, one of the
first. When Warners cut down on its musi-
cals, they bought up his contract for a
tidy sum and Oscar returned to New York
to write music for the Fred Stone show,
Ripples. He was riding high; back on
Broadway, he patronized only the most
expensive restaurants.

With Chester Erskin, another of that
season's genius crop, he set out one night
for the fashionable opening of an elaborate
Cole Porter musical, The New Yorkers.
Levant met Erskin at the latter's hotel,
which was half a block from the spot-
lighted theatre. Both were dressed in white
tie and tails and considered that it would
be beneath their dignity to walk to the
theatre. Oscar thought they might take a
taxi, but Erskin scornfully waved this
suggestion aside. They would hire a
limousine and come in style, with the
quality. Traffic conspired against them
and the chauffeur was forced to make de-
tour after detour, setting them down at
the theatre entrance an hour and a half
late. Only the doorman was there to wit-
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HOLLYWOOD'S

FASHION
SPOTLIGHT

By CANDIDA

Watch this column each month. In it
your Fashion Editor will point out, page
for page, all the items of style signifi-
cance in the photos of your favorite
movie stars. For instance . . .

Gale Sondergaard (see page 10) wears
a Spanish shawl for her role in The
Califomian. Shawls, whether fringed and
embroidered like this one, or made of
checked cotton, printed rayon, or sheer
monotone wool are good for both sports
and dress. Drop one over your sweater
clad shoulders, tie it at the throat of your
suit, or drape a silk or lace shawl over
your hair for a glamour evening fashion.

Tyrone Power (see page 10) could give
you the cape off his back, for wear both
day and night. Short or street length
capes change last fall's dress to this year's
outfit, can be made to match or contrast.
Or you can wear a full length cape like
Ty's for evening — it can be a tweedy
wool, an embroidered silk, or an inex-
pensive fur like lapin, mouton. On page
28, Madeleine Carroll wears another cos-
tume version of the cape for her part in
North West Mounted Police — adapt her
drawstring neckline to your needs.

Humphrey Bogart (see page 21) might
lend you his good-looking tweed
jacket — but you can get one just as
smartly man-tailored to fit in stores near
you. College girls and all young moderns
are finding men's shirts, vests and sweaters
as becoming to them as to their brothers.

Marlene Dietrich (see page 23) feathers
her nest with a fluffy hat worn behind
her pompadour. Hats made entirely of
feathers, or merely trimmed with them
are as good this year as fur "bird's nests"
were two season's ago. Have one for
best (because feather hats are perish-
able), and wear at least one of your other
hats on top of the head, to show your
curls.

Paulette Goddard (see page 28) looks
pretty primitive in her laced leather
skirt — but you'll find that suede skirts,
jerkins, and blouses are new looking and
becoming for sports wear. Suede calots
and berets make fall headlines, too!

Martha Scott (see page 36) has lace
trimmed sleeves for her costume in The
Howards of Virginia. Lace is definitely
back in style again — the more the better!
Make your new dinner dress of black
lace, or cover up last year's strapless
gown with a matching bolero or long
sleeved lace jacket. Add a lace collar
and cuff set to a plain dark dress for
freshness. And try the romantic witchery
of a fine lace bolero in the evening.

9 Oscar returned to Hollywood in 1933,
to write scores for Westerns and other
minor opera. He did the Ginger Rogers
film, In Person, which contains his favorite
song, Don't Mention hove to Me. He also
wrote music for Will Rogers' River 'Round
the Bend and for Charlie Chan at the
Opera. He stayed eight months, quar-
reling as usual with everyone.

That year he was married to Barbara
Smith. The couple lived together unhap-
pily for a short time, and then separated.
Soon after the divorce, she married Arthur
Loew. Was it Oscar's jealousy-revenge
complex that prompted him to telephone
the newlyweds at 3 a. m. the morning fol-
lowing the ceremony? "Oscar," said the
justly annoyed bride, "this is a strange
time to call." Levant asked her indul-
gence, since it was an emergency. "You
see," he explained, "I'm planning to go to
the movies tomorrow and I wanted to ask
Arthur what's playing at Loew's State."

B Due perhaps to the fact that he spent
his formative years working late in
night clubs, Oscar never gets to bed be-
fore 3 a. m., when he requires the assis-
tance of sedatives to put him to sleep. He
is generally awake by one in the after-
noon, and after breakfast (he drinks
dozens of cups of coffee a day) goes first
to his psychiatrist and then to his music
publisher, ritual visits. By mid- afternoon,
he is ready for business. This consists of
piano practice and telephoning all his
friends to find out what they have been
doing. Oscar likes the feeling of having
his friends close to him and he is very
possessive about them. In the days before
his recent second marriage, he would cata-
logue all their engagements for the eve-
ning and choose the one he liked best.
Then he would brazenly go to it. Since
his reactions to people are immediate and
violent, he could usually find three or
four guests to insult. The fact that they
had been invited and he had not, made
everything just dandy for the hostess.

Oscar is a great monologist. He talks
for hours on end, and is indeed rarely
silent. At a dinner party at Beatrice Kauf-
man's one night, the guests included
Franklin P. Adams, to whom Oscar was a
new experience. Oscar started to talk
with the appearance of the celery and
continued through the soup, fish and meat
courses. Adams looked on dumbfounded,
finally asking incredulously, "Is he read-
ing?"

Like a child, he must be humored con-
tinually. His first remark on hearing that
you have seen an acquaintance of his is,
"What did he say about me?" On his way
to visit Woollcott's Vermont island two
summers ago, he hurt his foot on the main-
land. When his host failed to perceive his
pain, greeting him gaily with "Come on,
you're just in time for a game of croquet,"
Oscar turned around and left immediately.

%f. Even his generosity is childishly in-
nocent. Dining at a restaurant with
Edna Ferber one night, Oscar ordered
spaghetti. While he was eating, Miss Fer-
ber happened to remark that the food
looked appetizing. "Here, try some," said
Oscar, pushing a forkful at her. Miss

Ferber is very fastidious, and the thought
of eating with a utensil used by someone
else repelled her. Yet, since she did not
wish to appear rude, she suffered tor-
tures trying to down the spaghetti with-
out having her lips touch Oscar's fork.
Finally she handed it back to him so he
could go on eating. "Waiter," said Oscar,
"bring me another fork!"

In spite of his seeming egocentricity,
Oscar minimizes his achievements. He can
play 10,000 musical compositions from
memory, but if you applaud him for this
accomplishment, you are likely to be
scowled. When his book, A Smattering of
Ignorance, had been out only a few days,
an acquaintance told him how much he
had enjoyed it. Oscar's first uncontrol-
lable remark was derogatory. "Not all of
it!" he exclaimed in horror.

Most of Levant's friends were delighted
with the book. Ira Gershwin congratulated
him on its success. "I'm not making much
money on it," said Oscar defensively. "But
the publishers advertise 52.000 copies sold
already," said Gershwin. "Yah," replied
Oscar, "but why should I believe them?"

M Oscar was married again last Novem-
ber to June Gale ("Confidentially, do
you think I'm making a mistake?" he
asked the justice who was about to per-
form the ceremony) . June, a lovely blond
girl, has appeared in small movie parts,
in such films as Charlie Chan on Treasure
Island, Hotel for Women, and The Jones
Family in Hollywood, but has now re-
tired, to devote herself to Oscar. Oscar
has become the actor in the family.

"She's interested in only one thing, in
my picture career," he says wryly. "That
is, whether my hair is combed flat or curly.
The first few days on the Rhythm on the
River set, she kept calling the make-up
man, telling him to make sure my hair
was curly. If it's flat, she says, then my
face looks pushed in." Darkly, Oscar adds,
"She acts as if she didn't know where her
next punch in the nose was coming from."

Oscar began acting his role in the pic-
ture by reading from the script, but soon
dropped that to improvise his own
speeches. Many of his lines in the film
were thought up by him on the spur of
the moment. He also originated some of
the comic scenes.

He got along well with Bing Crosby,
whom he likes and respects. Crosby wrote
on a still from the picture, "To Oscar,
Hurry back, 'Dream-boat,' I want you to
play Pelleas to my Melisande."

But Oscar will be busy with his In-
formation, Please program, his concerts,
and probably a sequel to his book, for
which he already has the title. It's to be
called, A Smattering of Ignorance Finds
Andy Hardy.

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Table of Contents

EXCLUSIVE FEATURES

The Boy Grows Older (Citizen Kane) by Thomas Vaughn 12

Confessions of a Hollywood Night Clerk 16

Oakie Strikes Back by Jack Dallas 19

Fun With Fontaine by Erskine Johnson 21

Marxmen Hit the Trail by Tom DeVane 22

The Rebel Returns (Katharine Hepburn) by John Franchey 24

Hollywood's Good Neighbors by Helen Louise Walker 26

Meet John Doe by Duncan Underhill 28

Zorro Comes Back by E. J. Smithson 30

This Can't Be Love (Jack Benny and Fred Allen) by James F. Scheer 34

Arizona Days (William Holden) by Juan Tulare 36

PICTORIAL SPECIALS

Double X (mas) (Dorothy Lamour) 29

Wrapped As a Gift (Fritz Feld) 66

EVERY MONTH IN HOLLYWOOD

Hollywood Newsreel by Duncan Underhill 6

Quick Tricks by Ann Vernon 14

The Show Goes On by The Editor 17

Resort-ful Fashions by Candida 32

Movie Masquerade 42

Movie Crossword 52

Football Buffet by Betty Crocker 64

HOLLYWOOD Magazine is published monthly by Fawrelt Publicationss. Inf., 1100 W. Broadway, Louisville Ivy
Printed in U. S. A. Advertising and Editorial Offices, Paramount Building. 1501 Broadway, New York N Y Holly-
wood Editorial Offices. 8555 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, Calif. General Offices, Fawcetf Building, Greenwich Conn
Eliott D. Odell, Advertising Director; Boscoe K. Fawcett. Circulation Director; Ralph Daigh, Editorial Director; Al
Allard, Art Director; E. J. Smithson, Western Manager. Entered as second-class matter at the post office at Louisville,
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Reprinting in whole or in part forbidden except by permission of the publishers. Title registered in the II. S. Patent
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MEMBER AUDIT BUREAU OF CIRCULATIONS

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No matter who is elected, there is no
doubt about the People's Choice.

• •
Perhaps you
should know
somefewfacts
aboutyourfa-
vorite screen
candidate. As
follows :

• •

In the last 17 annual polls of the nation's
critics, M-G-M produced 53 of the 170
best pictures.

• • • •

Of the 100 leading stars and featured
players in the movies, 48 are under con-
tract to M-G-M.

• • • •

These include — in alphabetical order — Lionel
Barrymore, Wallace Beery, Joan Crawford,
Robert Donat, Nelson Eddy, Clark Gable,
Greta Garbo, Judy Garland, Greer Garson,
Hedy Lamarr, Myrna Loy, Jeanette Mac-
Donald, Marx Brothers, Robert Montgomery,
Eleanor Powell, William Powell, Mickey
Rooney, Rosalind Russell, Norma Shearer, Ann
Sothern, James Stewart, Robert Taylor, Spen-
cer Tracy, Lana Turner. To mention but a few.

• • • •

The M-G-M studios in Culver City are
the world's largest. They occupy 157
acres and employ 4000 people.

• • • •

M-G-M pictures are produced on thirty
giant sound stages, one of which, 310 by
133 feet, is 40 feet high.

• • • •

The laboratory annually prints enough
film to encircle the earth at the equator
with enough left over to reach from Los
Angeles to Boston. No one has ever tried
to do this however.

• • • •

Among the outstanding films M-G-M has pro-
duced are The Big Parade, Ben-Hur, The
Merry Widow, The Four Horsemen, Broad-
way Melody, Anna Christie, The Big House,
Trader Horn, Grand Hotel, The Thin Man,
Smilin' Through, David Copperfield, The
Great Ziegfeld, Mutiny On The Bounty,
San Francisco, The Good Earth, Captains
Courageous, Boys Town, Test Pilot, The
Citadel, The Wizard of Oz, Babes In Arms,
Goodbye Mr. Chips, Ninotchka, Northwest
Passage, Boom Town, Strike Up The Band,
and Escape. How many have you seen ?

For November we announce two out-
standing productions. Jeanette Mac-
Donald and Nelson Eddy in Noel
Coward's "Bitter Sweet". And Judy
Garland in George M. Cohan's "Little
Nellie Kelly".

• • • •
When the lion roars on the screen, you're
in for a good time. *

Advertisement for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures

Deanna Durbin looks very grown-up

with hair done high and ear-rings.

Vaughn Paul was her escort for the

opening of Foreign Correspondent

he played Cagney at the age of twelve in
Angels With Dirty Faces.

After this first screen role, Frankie
played "Cagney types" with the Cagney
delivery and mannerisms, for other studios
besides Warners, the tough-guy star's
home lot.

In Touchdown, the Burke characteriza-
tion is entirely new. The role is that of
Wayne Morris' college roommate and pro-
vides ample opportunity for some meaty
creative acting.

Frankie, a Brooklyn kid, got his movie
start when a talent scout saw him mimic
Cagney in a scene from Public Enemy at
a Las Vegas, Nevada, night club.

Grateful for his fresh start, young Burke
confided to Director Lucky Humberstone:

"It'll be a relief to be myself for a
change. I don't look so much like Cagney
any more anyway. I'd say I was more of
a Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., type."

H Kay Kyser's mother, visiting a You'll
Find Out set at RKO, was describing
to some members of the cast how dutiful
Kay had been as a boy about saying his
prayers.

"He was so serious about such matters,"
she recounted earnestly, "that once when
his sister snickered at him, Kay got up off
his knees and kicked her unconscious."

| Director John Cromwell was looking
for a character actor skilled in magic
to fill an important part in the Margaret
Sullavan-Fredric March tale of refugees,
Flotsam.

Orson Welles look Dolores Del Rio
and his pipe to the same formal
opening which attracted one of the
biggest star turnouts of the year

the nose. This was all incidental to the
making of A?-ise, My Love, in which Ray
and Walter play opposite Claudette.

"Ray and Walter are very nice men,"
Claudette declared in a manifesto to Pro-
ducer Arthur Hornblow, Jr., and Director
Mitch Leisen. "I like them, I like the
picture and everything about it. But I
don't like the idea of biting anybody on
the nose. It offends something deep in-
side me."

By way of compromise, Leisen recast
the sequence so that Claudette's nose-
biting proclivities developed off-scene.
Ray and Walter showed up before the
camera with their noses bandaged and
identical stories about whose dainty little
fangs were responsible.

H Preston Sturges, the writer now
making a glittering career as a direc-
tor, is having uniformly bad luck with
his story titles.

Down Went McGinty became The Great
McGinty. A Cup of Coffee became The
New Yorkers and will ultimately hit the
screen under still another title.

But Sturges has one story in mind that
he challenges the studio to retitle. It is
The Sin oj Louisa Ginglebusher .

"Try and kick that one around," is his
standing challenge to the studio heads.

Frankie Burke will emerge in Touch-
down from the shadow of Jimmy
Cagney, which has eclipsed him ever since

Binnie Barnes in her going-away suit
with Mike Frankovich just after their
marriage at the home of Joe E. Brown

From dozens of candidates for the job,
Cromwell tentatively selected Philip Van
Zandt, Broadway stage actor who repre-
sented himself as a former assistant to
Howard Thurston, the magician.

One of the key sequences calls for some
pretty expert card manipulation. The
director asked Van Zandt if he would
risk his chance of getting the part on his
ability to perform a sleight of hand trick.

The actor said he hadn't practiced card
manipulation in fifteen years but was
game to try.

"All right," Cromwell said, cutting and
shuffling a new deck of cards and passing
it over. "Deal me a royal flush."

Van Zandt flipped out the ace, king,
queen, jack and ten of diamonds.

"Now deal me a contract," he countered.

■ Oscar Homolka, working with Mar-

lene Dietrich on Seven Sinners, is

one of the profession's greatest worriers.

Lately he has been concentrating his
anxiety on the plight of a scenarist whose
office he passes daily on the way to the
set. The fellow has an old, creaky portable
typewriter that is constantly jamming and
threatening to fall apart or explode.

Finally one day Homolka paused a't the
writer's doorway and asked, "Why don't
you get a new machine? You could do
twice as much work."

With a sour expression and a thumb-
jerk of dismissal the scenario-writer re-
plied, "I haven't got twice as much work
to do."

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NAME

Vacationing at Arrowhead, Peter

Lorre was approached by two lanky

spinsters with the request that he identify

a certain actor who had appeared with

him in If I Had a Million.

One of the dames, acting as spokesman,
said, "Now I'm thin and my sister is thin,
but the man we mean is thinner than both
of us put together."

"A perfect description," Lorre ac-
knowledged, "of John Carradine."

■ A movie fan himself, Cecil B. DeMille
puts on shows for his family and
friends a couple of times a week in his
home projection room. One night recently
the film was his own recently completed
North West Mounted Police.

The stirring film was a hit with the
audience, but one of the smallest relatives
reserved decision by asking:

Raymond Massey plays John Brown in
Santa Fe Trail and uses his rifle and
his six-shooter with fanatic fury
against Errol Flynn and his friends

out at an alarming rate. He sold the play
to Paramount and that studio starred
Roscoe (Fatty) Arbuckle in it with great
profit to everybody concerned.

Now a Paramount producer himself,
Sherman was handed back the play this
season. In the modernizing process the
part of the sheriff, formerly the lead, was
switched to a fat-man comedy role and
Richard Dix and Preston Foster were
signed for the serious parts.

Sherman at last has the Hollywood
heavyweight he was looking for twenty-
three years ago. Don Wilson, radio an-
nouncer, 265-pounds ringside, is the
comedy sheriff.

corridors and up and down staircases. It
was just the old fly-by-night technique
asserting itself."

Despairing of ever getting the scene
right as written, Director Potter rewrote
it so that Meredith stumbles on the stairs
in plain view of the clerk.

H Diego Rivera is putting the finishing
touches on his painting of Paulette
Goddard, begun in Mexico City and lugged
along when the celebrated Mexican mu-
ralist fled his homeland for California.

The canvas shows Paulette, in tennis
shorts, seated, while a Mexican girl combs
her hair.

According to Paulette and Rivera the
official name of the painting is "American
Youth Trying to Find Itself, and Searching
for Truth."

Both allege this title is on the level but

There is gunplay of all kinds all
over the Warner Brothers' lot. Here
is Bette Davis thinking over some
direct action for her role in The Letter

"When we gonna have another Hopalong
Cassidy, Grandfahver?"

■ After a slight lapse of twenty-three
years, The Roundup is back in the
hands of the man who first recognized it
as movie fare.

It was 1917 when Harry Sherman, a
comparative tyro among film producers,
bought Edmund Day's famous play from
Klaw & Erlanger, the New York theater
firm. It had served for several years as a
highly successful starring vehicle for
Macklyn Arbuckle.

Sherman planned to find a Hollywood
heavyweight to star in the film version,
but found that his bank roll was thinning

i Years of adversity in the theater are
supposed to condition young actors
for eventual fame. For Burgess Meredith
it worked out contrariwise, however,
causing him repeatedly to muff a sequence
in Second Chorus.

The situation called for Meredith to
sneak past a desk clerk and arrive at
Paulette Goddard's apartment ahead of
Fred Astaire. The clerk was supposed to
be reading a newspaper and then sud-
denly notice Meredith climbing furtively
up the stairs.

But every time the clerk looked up,
Meredith was beyond his range of vision.

Director H. C. Potter got the jim-jams
every time the clerk muffed the timing and
let Burgess get out of sight and had to be
restrained by Meredith from bawling the
hapless actor out.

"It's not his fault," Meredith said. "When
I was on my uppers I got to be an expert
at ducking room clerks. I'm practically a
ghost when it comes to sneaking around

Humphrey Bogart is equally deadly
in High Sierra, tale of gangsters,
molls and savage fights and flights
in the high mountains of California

a suspicion exists that somebody is being
kidded.

■ Fred MacMurray's romantic batting
average of 1,000 went off the gold
standard on Rangers of Fortune when, for
the first time, he lost the girl to an out-
sider, Dick Foran.

After twenty-five wins and no defeats,
Fred finishes in the i-uck in the contest for
the affections of Patricia Morison.

"I'm glad the winning streak is broken,"
he admitted. "It's tough work making the
pace and I was beginning to crack under
the strain."

Some of the prizes he has carried off
[Continued on page 63]

,N THE GREAT

TRADITION OF

HIGH ROMANCE

f HE COUNT Of

THE SOH OF
MONTE CRISTO

T940

A coach hurtles through the night, its frightened coach-
man lashing his horses' lathered flanks. Jeweled fingers
touch the curtain of a window. A beautiful face peers into the threatening night.

The gallop of pursuing hoofs. The sound of shots. The iron tyrant's iron men
are closer, closer. The crash of wood ^■3il^"*~^=st^ on wood as the coach
©f Her Highness Zona smashes against ^^^P^^^r^n^^^a tall tree ... Is her
cause lost? Is the cause of romance, of love again to lose to the mad might of
ruthless power . . .

No . . . the Son of Monte Cristo . . . gallant son of a gallant father .„;. . leaps from

his saddle, takes the lovely lady in his arms CjiCpK • ■ anc* r^e fy?*1* is on

the spirit, the glory of the grandest story of all pfci w romance lives again.

Edward Small, producer of such thrilling romances as "The
Man in the Iron Mask" brings in glowing, thrilling splendor

to the screen, the sequel to his famous screenplay, "The Count of Monte

Cristo," the even grander romantic adventure ...

Edward Small presents

LOUIS JOAN

HAYWARD- BENNETT

THE SON OF
MONTE CRISTO

FLORENCE BATES
MONTAGU LOVE

The Boy Grows Older

The amazing Orson Welles is aging fifty years in his first
picture and is reported to be giving Hollywood some grow-
ing pains as he discovers the intricacies of the industry

By THOMAS VAUGHN

| He may have scared the pants off
half the country with his now
legendary Men From Mars broadcast —
but Hollywood refers to bogey-man
Orson Welles as Little Orson Annie!

Not that Mr. Welles minds. During
his short quarter of a century on this
earth, he's had plenty of names tossed
at him by those who envied his talent,
his aggressiveness, and most of all — ■
his youth. He is just twenty-five and
a half, now.

Welles bestows nicknames with a
lavish hand to everyone on his staff,
as I discovered after my first visit to
the set of Citizen Kane, his first pic-
ture. His assistant director is "Jiminy
Crickets." The art director, a very
civilized individual, is burdened with
the name of "Alfalfa Bill." Leading lady
Dorothy Comingore was christened
"Miss Quagmire," heaven knows why.
The only person Orson doesn't nick-
name is Gregg Toland, his cameraman
— one of the best in the industry. Orson
calls him Mr. Toland.

His staff has two pet names for Mr.
Welles. One is "Monstro" — when he's
in a bad mood — and the other is
"Junior." Lately, since he's been going
around with the beautiful Dolores Del
Rio, the help calls him "Pancho."

And don't tell me that all this is
irrelevant. It isn't. Virtually all of the
cast of Citizen Kane, which RKO-
Radio will release around Christmas
time, are Welles alumni from the Mer-
cury Theater and the WPA Theater
Project in New York. Others have
appeared with him in his highly suc-
cessful radio programs. They all know
the boss well enough, and respect him
enough, to call him names!

Orson has always been resented in
show business — any branch of it. Seems
silly — but the main beef against him is
his youth. When he was twenty-three
he was producing, acting and directing
his own productions at his own Mer-
cury Theater, with a nation-wide radio
broadcast to boot. The year before, he
had done sensational things with WPA
Theater funds and produced a negro
version of Macbeth, which ran for
months.

When the movies made him a lovely
offer of 150.000 gleaming dollars to
come to Hollywood on a three-way
ticket (producing - acting - directing),
Hollywood didn't like it. "What," mut-
tered the Boulevard know-it-alls,
"does that guy know about making
movies?"

The "guy" was only spending twelve
hours a day around the studio, working
his tail off, and getting to be an

authority on every angle of production.
Orson has lost fifty pounds during his
year in Hollywood. He has made a
systematic study of every department
of the studio that would effect his pic-
ture. He has spent days in the music
department, learning the tricky busi-
ness of scoring. He has spent weeks in
the cutting rooms, learning how films
are edited and cut. He got a Welles-eye
view (which means thorough) of the
technical laboratories. In short, our
youthful maestro was not idle. He was
quietly finding out what made the
movies tick.

Then it was announced loudly that
Mr. Welles would appear in Heart of
Darkness. But it was a big budget pic-
ture. It was shelved — but not before
Orson had a chance to grow a beard for
his role. The beard was a mixture of
brown, red and gray, and Mr. Welles
hated giving it up.

Then Orson submitted an original
to the studio called Smiler With a
Knife, which they thought wonderful.
But one executive timidly asked just
which part Mr. Welles was going to
play. Mr. Welles was going to play a
very minor part in only a few scenes!
He wanted to make a picture — and
make a good one. To heck with being
the star! The studio couldn't agree
with that.

Citizen Kane, another Welles orig-
inal, finally hit the jackpot. They liked
the idea of Orson starting as a brash
young man of twenty- one and ending
up an awful, fat, bleary-eyed old man.
Sort of runs the gamut, as the saying
goes.

Just to keep everyone mystified, the
RKO call sheets announced "Tests for
Orson Welles" for over two weeks
before the picture was to go into pro-
duction. There was some concern, since
Mr. Welles had already made a stag-
gering amount of tests — mostly of
himself.

But it turned out that the gentle-
man had been shooting away happily
on his picture without so much as a
how do you do — and away ahead of
schedule.

First day I visited the set, Welles wa<
concentrating on only two of his three
capacities. He was producing and di-
recting— not acting. Furthermore, he
was hopping around on one foot
like an overgrown small boy, having
sprained his ankle the day before.
There were crutches at the side of his
chair but — use them? — not Orson. He
7iopped.

It was quite a fantastic set, too.
An operatic [Continued on page 40]

TURBULENT ADVENTURE... SET AGAINST THE RICH,

ROMANTIC TAPESTRY OF EARLY ARIZONA!

he story of lovely Phoebe
Titus, titan of a woman, and her
love for dashing Peter Muncie,
Sergeant, U. S. A.! Mighty spec-
tacle! Tempestuous stampedes!
War! Lawless raids! Intrepid men
and women! At last, in all its wild,
brave magnificence, the motion
picture drama of Arizona's birth!

Created by a great picture
maker ... at incalculable cost
. . . with a superb cast of
thousands . . . in especially

re-created Old Tucson!
2% -

Quick
Tricks

Anyone so popular as Constance Moore has to have quick beauty
aids. There just isn't time between dates for long sessions at the
mirror. Here the lovely star of the rather fantastically named
picture, I'm Nobody's Sweetheart TSoiv, tells her beauty shortcuts

By ANN VERNON

■ The movie Stai' who didn't have at
least three quick beauty tricks in her
hand wouldn't score much in Hollywood.
Or anywhere else for that matter. For
the life of a movie star is just as much
the personal appearances she makes in
Houston, Texas, and Kansas City and
Lincoln, Nebraska, as it is the daily work
she does on the set, or the tennis she
plays on her private court. It's then she
makes an impression, good or bad, on
you fans. And after .all, your good opinion
is her quickest road to box-office success.

Not long ago I talked with Connie
Moore, just after her return to New York
City from the premiere of The Boys From
Syracuse in Syracuse, N Y. The tales
she had to tell! Apparently she'd spent
her time rushing from one theater to an-
other— the picture was running simul-
taneously in three — and trying to get
through mobs of fans
who clutched at her
silver fox jacket, and
stepped on her dress and
stuck autograph books
under her nose. But she
loved it all, even though
it was tiring. And here
she was the next after-
noon, looking pretty as
could be in a lacy neg-
ligee— and planning on
another appearance that
evening!

Wouldn't you like to
know how Connie (and

CAN YOU FACE THE MUSIC

with a clear skin, a flawless
make-up, and the right hair-do
for your "peculiar type of
beauty"? Write Ann Vernon
for help in getting rid of black-
heads and large pores, choos-
ing new fall shades of powder,
rouge and lipstick — or for aid
in solving your special beauty
problems. Enclose a stamped,
self-addressed envelope for
reply, and address your letter
to Ann Vernon, Beauty Editor,
HOLLYWOOD Magazine, 1501
Broadway, New York City.

the rest of them) keep looking so fresh
and lovely through it all? Wouldn't you
like to use some of her quick tricks the
next time you have a last minute date?
I thought so, and I'm going to tell "all"
in this article. I'll tell you, too, about a
skin beautifying mask to pick up your
complexion and give it a glow, about a
new type of cheek rouge that will see
you through the evening, a long lasting
cake make-up — and other cosmetics that
will do right by you and the impression
you want to make tonight and every
other night.

Connie was fresh from the tub when I
saw her — and that's just the place she
advises all of you to start your quick
slick-ups. Because a bath (a lukewarm
one, mind you) will relax all those weary
muscles and quiet those jangled nerves.
It will make you feel rested — and that's
half the battle. Because
when you feel soothed
and rested and relaxed,
your face loses all those
tense, tight lines, it irons
itself out — and you look
three times as young
and beautiful. Better
still, wash your face be-
fore stepping into your
tub, and apply a mask —
so it can dry while you
get all refreshed and
clean.

Your bath will be
twice as refreshing, your

facial mask ever so beautifying if you use
a snowy inexpensive product for both. In
the bath, it seems to put starch in tired
muscles, so you get out "rarin' to go." And
it coats the skin with an almost invisible
film that is cooling and soothing, makes
the after -bath feeling last. On the face,
it does all that and more. For when
mixed to the proper consistency for your
skin it practically gives you a face lifting.
You see, the drying and tightening of
the mask while it's on your face helps
to dislodge blackheads, tighten enlarged
pores, and firm the tissues temporarily.
And when you remove the mask, you'll
also remove some of the loosened bits of
dead skin that were marring the smooth-
ness of your complexion. All of which
adds up to new facial glamour for you,
my proud beauty. Want to know the
name of the product — and the way to use
it in your bath and in your mask?

Connie wouldn't any more want to de-
velop a shiny face in the middle of her
personal appearance than you would half-
way through a date. And her skin tends
to be oily, with dry areas on the cheeks —
so you can imagine the difficulty she had in
finding a make-up that would stay on
smoothly, without giving way to shine on
her nose. But trust these Hollywood
girls — and the make-up experts, too —
Connie found just what she needed. She's
passing the secret on to you, because she's
so enthusiastic about this type of make-
up. First of all, it's in cake form — looks
almost like a fat pat of dry powder. But
it doesn't work that way! Oh no, you
apply this make-up with a moistened
sponge or wad of cotton. Blend it lightly
all over your face (and throat too, so
they'll be the same shade) , then when it's
half dry, smooth it with your fingertips,
so there are no streaks. You can powder
over this make-up, if you want, but it's
not necessary, because it gives your skin
a velvety finish that makes it look just
like new. It saw Connie through that
strenuous personal appearance in Syra-
cuse, so I strongly suspect you could go
bowling after the movies, then stop in for
a coke and a conga — and still look fresh
as when you started. Do be sure to write
me for the name so you can have this
cake make-up handy to give you a new
face the next time the telephone rings
for an unexpected date. It's not expen-
sive, and a little goes a long way.

■ Do ' you know how to apply cheek
rouge so it looks like your own natural
blush? If you do, stop right here. But
I'm going to keep on, because I bet you
don't. Not if the faces I saw on a recent
trip through Texas and Oklahoma and
Kansas and Minnesota are any indication!
Apparently most of you think rouge is the
easiest thing to apply — so you scrub the
puff over your little compact of cake
rouge, then plump it spang in the middle
of each cheek. No wonder you get a
hectic flush that looks as though you were
dying of a high fever. Rouge is meant
to make up for any lack of natural color
you may have — not to put nature to
shame. It's meant to be applied sparingly,
and blended into the surrounding skin
at the edges so [Continued on page 60]

DURA-GLOSS

A secret message to a man's heart — that only your flawlessly
groomed fingernails, resplendent in the gem-lustred beauty of
Dura-Gloss, so gloriously betray! Yes, those beautiful hands,
those excitingly pagan fingernails tell him the thrilling story of
your fastidious daintiness! Possess — yourself — these spectac-
ular, these vivid fingernails — with Dura-Gloss, the nail polish
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Cut this out I
jg (alongdotted_|
'""line) and put
in your
change-
purse to re-
mind your-
self

.Confessions of a

H I'm no ordinary night clerk, mind
you. I work in the movies, too.
You've probably seen me a hundred times
on the screen. I'm an actor — and a darned
good one when I get a chance. Ask John
Ford. Ask Jimmy Whale and Leo
McCarey and George Cukor and the
other directors who use me in their pic-
tures whenever they possibly can.

But this puss of mine doesn't exactly
make the girls sigh and think of Romeo
and Don Juan. I'm a bit on the skinny
side (as a matter of fact, my wise-crack-
ing girl friend once called me an under-
fed Cesar Romero — which gives you a
rough idea). But I'm good for gangster
pictures and foreign background epics.

I started this night clerking racket about
ten years ago — strictly from hunger —
after going six starvation months without
a single chance in front of a camera. A
pal tipped me off to a job at a little side
street Hollywood hotel — not very classy,
but "homey." By bluffing the manager
about my experience, I landed the job.
Then I had to learn how to operate a
switchboard in one afternoon. Maybe it
doesn't sound so hard, but jeepers, I was
all fingers at first!

And so began my second Hollywood
career — the one that's really kept me
going.

Of course I can handle two jobs at once.
I manage to get in quite a few winks on
my late shift, from two until seven, so
when I'm working in a picture, I'm in
good shape.

When you see Hollywood through the
eyes of a night clerk, you see plenty!
I've got material for a dozen novels —
tragic ones, gay ones, success stories —

The success story that makes me
happiest of all is that of my bright par-
ticular pet, Ann Sheridan — Miss Oomph
to you. That girl won her fame the hard
way, and she deserves it.

After Paramount failed to renew Ann's
contract in 1935, she came to live in the
apartment house on Cherokee where I
was working. Clara Lou (that's what a
lot of people called her in those days)
got a tiny income from her family in
Texas. She asked another girl to move
in with her to save rent. The other girl
had a steady job, so they managed to get
along.

I believed then that the redhead had a
future (for that matter, I still do, because
the Oompher's possibilities haven't been
touched yet). She had every reason to
get discouraged in those days, but you'd
never know it from Ann. She was always
apparently happy and carefree.

One thing I noticed about her— she

always kept her apartment filled with
flowers. I think she would rather have
gone without some of that delicatessen
food from the corner than give up her
flowers. Boy friends? She had maybe
two or three. Generally Annie went to
movies on the Boulevard and took her long
walks in the hills alone.

Her success hasn't changed her a speck,
so far as I can discover. Last year I met
her when she was shopping in Barker
Brothers, and my reception was terrific!
She gave me her private telephone num-
ber, and told me to call her about a party
she wanted to have in a week or two.
And was it a pip of a party! That Sheridan
has a gift for making people feel at home.
The food was all Mexican, and she had a
troupe of Mexican musicians to entertain.
You'd have thought that I and my girl
friend (she works extra) were Mr. and
Mrs. Jack Warner from the way Ann
treated us.

Of course they can't all be like Ann.
Right here in this apartment house there's
one of the most tragic girls in Hollywood.
We'll call her Miss X. You'd know her
name, although it's been in the public
eye less and less in the past few years.
She's young (still under thirty), beautiful
and a superb actress. But poor Miss X
drinks. She can't stay away from the
bottle. Liquor means more to her than
her career.

She tries to pull herself together occa-
sionally. I'll never forget last year, when
her agent got her a test for a role in the
year's biggest picture. Yeah, you know
which one I mean. Scarlett O'Hara. Well,
we were all knocking ourselves out. Miss
X had been on a bender for a week. My
landlady boss sent for her own doctor
(even if Miss X was two months behind
in the rent) and we filled her full of pills
and managed to keep her sober over the
weekend. The test was to be on a Mon-
day.

I saw her off, bright and early. She
grabbed a cab — and at the nearest liquor
store stopped and got a bottle of whiskey.
Just to settle her nerves. By the time
she had reached the studio, in Culver
City, she had lapped up a neat part of that
bottle.

They got her into a costume, and she
looked magnificent, I heard. All the
camera crew were rooting for her, for
Miss X has always been a big favorite
with the technical boys. Between takes,
she would go into her dressing room to
"freshen up her make-up." By noontime,
they had to prop her up in order to shoot
her. Unfortunately, the big boss came
out on the set, took in the situation at a
glance, and called off the whole thing!
And he liked her; wanted her to have the
part if he could have trusted her.

I'm no moralist — but I hate to see
women drink more than an occasional
cocktail. Liquor does strange things to
the female of the species, and a night
clerk gets so he can't see anything smart
or funny about a drunk staggering home
at dawn. I'll never forget the apartment
house I worked at a few years back.
We had two lady lushes under one roof —
and both of them former silent screen
stars! [Continued on page 50]

The Show Goes On

By THE EDITOR

| There are two sides to nearly every-
thing. A few weeks ago Joan Crawford
was called "utterly discourteous." She was
called a "perennial complainer." She was
accused of giving the impression that she
"is some great princess, above and beyond
the ordinary rule." She was called a
"poseur" and a good many other things
by the brilliant Ed Sullivan in his widely
read column in the powerful New York
Daily News.

Mr. Sullivan gave the impression that
he was burned up at Miss Crawford, and
he told why with the speed, style and vivid
vocabulary that has made him famous.

It was a stinging article.

What did Miss Crawford have to say
about this?

You can read her answer in the January
Hollywood, on the stands December 10,
and we advise you not to miss it.

| Eddie Albert, the amusing man with
the tousled hair and the crooked smile
who has figured so successfully in screen
romances of late, says, "id make a terrible
husband" and explains why any girl
should think twice about marrying him.
He likes to take trips into the desert and
the interior of Mexico with no more than
a blanket and a canteen in the car, and no
warning whatever. He is crazy about
growing himself a great big bushy beard
whenever he has a few weeks away from
the studio. He loves to have a pet monkey
hopping around the house, and even likes
to swing on the rafters, himself. All of
this would be very disconcerting to a
bride, he points out in one of the funniest
articles we have printed.

| Betty Grable has been severely criti-
cised by those who do not know the
inside story of her marriage and divorce
from Jackie Coogan. But there is bravery
behind that blond beauty, and a fine sense
of responsibility under that gay manner.
Her story is particularly interesting just
now when she is returning to Hollywood
after reviving her fading screen career by
a smashing success in the New York
theater, just now when her young ex-
husband is becoming a civilian flying in-
structor in Canada. Don't miss the vivid
story in next month's issue.

■ What did Cary Grant do with all the
money he made working in Phila-
delphia Story . . . some one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars? Who runs his
house? How did he get that house in the
first place, and why is he so fond of it?
And why does he make those horrible
faces at himself in the mirror? All of the
answers to these questions and a great deal
more information about the man who is
fast becoming Hollywood's number one
matinee idol are to be found in next
month's Hollywood Magazine.

"Politeness has its limits-
I just won't dance with Peg!

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TAKES THE ODOR OUT OF PERSPIRATION

MRS. VICTOR DU PONT, III

MRS. ERNEST DU PONT, JR.

MRS. NICHOLAS RIDGELY DU PONT

MRS. EUGENE DU PONT, III

k -y

American Girl 1941

Eyes bright as stars . . . Hair brushed to shining . . .
Cheeks — clean, fresh, sweet as a newly flowered rose
. . . Attire trim as a uniform, or — a benison of grace
and soft enchantment.

Thus stands our American Girl. Eager. Spirited.
Swift to serve as today's swift events demand.

That jewel brightness is part of her unchanging
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In her primer of true breeding are five flaming requi-
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laid down by Pond's: —

BA 1 Ht the face lavishly with luscious Pond's Cold Cream. Spank
its fragrant unctuousness into the skin of face and throat. Spank
for 3 full minutes— even five. This swift and obedient cream mixes
with the dried, dead surface cells, dirt and make-up on your skin,
softening and setting them free.

Wirt Urr ail this softened debris with the caressing absorbency
of Pond's Tissues. With it you have removed some of the softened
tops of blackheads — rendered it easier for little plugs of hardened
sebum to push their way to the surface.

Or ANft again with fresh fingerfuls of gracious Pond's Cold
Cream. Again wipe off with Pond's Tissues. This spanking enhances

both the cleansing and the softening. Your skin emerges from it
infinitely refreshed. Lines seem softened. Pores seem finer.

COOL with the faint, intriguing astringence of Pond's Skin Freshener.

MAol\ your whole face, for one full minute, with a blissful coat-
ing of Pond's Vanishing Cream. This delectable cream has as one of
its chief missions in life the duty of dispersing remaining harsh
particles, chappings, aftermath of exposure. When you wipe it off,
it leaves a perceptible mat finish. Then with what enchantment
your powder goes on. How surprisingly it holds.

Perform this Pond's ritual in full once daily — before retiring or
during the day. And again in abbreviated form as your skin and
make-up need freshening. Guard your skin's tender look and feel,
as do so many members of America's most distinguished families —
with Pond's. Already some thirteen million women in the United
States use Pond's.

GIVE-AWAY for the thrifty
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Pond's authoritative hand lo-
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BOTH FOR THE PRICE OF CREAM

MRS. VICTOR DU PONT, III . . . MRS. NICHOtAS RIDGELY DU PONT . . . MRS. EUGENE DU PONT, III . ; ;

MRS. ERNEST DU PONT, JR. . . . members of the brilliant family whose aristocratic heritage, whose vast and varied

industries, are almost an American legend. All have for years followed the Pond's ritual

Oakie Strikes Back

01 They said Jack would be there, and
that's where we found him — under
a peach tree, of all places, with a hoity-
toity cow twenty paces north-by-east
sniffing the balmy morning air, oh, so
disdainfully.

There was something wrong with the
picture. It wasn't the Jack Oakie of yes-
teryear, the old gleam in his eye, alert,
whimsical, the ready jest in his throat, the
sudden gag up his sleeve.

Mr. Oakie, caparisoned in an under-
taker's coat and black four-in-hand, was a
woeful spectacle indeed. He wore the air
of a man suffering not only physical pain
but spiritual agony, to boot.

"Brooding about life, eh Jackie?" we
suddenly popped at him, real chummy
like. "What'll it get you, Jackie? What'll
it get you?"

Mr. Oakie darted a look of unconcealed
disgust in our direction, counted ten,
seemed to be considering violence
finally subsided to a boiling point.

"It's her — that vandal over there!
shrieked, pointing.

All anxiety, our eyes followed his quiv-
ering finger. It was aimed contemptuously
at the rather soulful-looking animal who
seemed listening to celestial music — com-
pletely above it all.

Mr. Oakie must have detected our
amazement.

"That bovine bandit, that dairy des-
perado, that lens lizard has me almost
hors de combat," he cried.

"Her — a mere cow!" we remarked,
blinking.

"A mere cow!" Oakie snorted. "Why,
that's Elsie, the Borden glamour girl, the
notorious cud- chewing egotist and foe of
all honest actors. Listen to this! It's our
big scene in Little Men, y'understand. Me
and Elsie are out in the peach orchard.
There's moonlight and all that. Well, Elsie
and I square off before the camera. Then
the director says, 'Roll 'em.' Of course, the
minute the camera starts
grinding, I rush out to
protect my equity in the
picture. I don't reckon to
have a lowly cow walking
off with the gravy."

He paused to catch his
breath. "Well, I take a gan-
der at Elsie and I see she's
playing the scene big. I
edge over to her. I'm going
to elbow her out of focus.
But that's where I make
my mistake. I give Elsie a
shove, all fifteen hundred
pounds of her, and what
happens? I sprain my
wrists, and Elsie walks off
with the scene." Oakie
groaned. "And me the
sultan of scene-swipers!"
[Continued on page 61]

Jack Oakie, embittered by
his experience with Elsie,
the cow. who insisted on
stealing his scenes, takes
time to explain the secrets
of the art of scene-stealing

By JACK DALLAS

ONE

POWER

Exciting as never before ... in the
most famous of all screen roles!

the Mark

A masked adventurer . . .
the jagged mark o( his
sword striking terror
into every heart but hers!

LINDA

DARNELL

BASIL RATHBONE

GALE SONDERGAARD • EUGENE
PALLETTE . J. EDWARD BROMBERG
ROBERT LOWERY • CHRIS-PIN MARTIN
MONTAGU LOVE • JANET BEECHER

Associate Producer RAYMOND GRIFFITH . Directed by

ROUBEN MAMOULIAN . Screen Play by John Taintor

Foote • Adaptation by Garrett Fort • Based on the story

"The Curse of Capistrano" by Johnston McCulley

A TWENTIETH CENTURY- FOX PICTURE

Fun With Font

Joan Fonfaisp' ^se of

humor saw her through her
discouraging first years in
Hollywood* Now it is still an
aid in her present success

E JOHNSON

M A big transcontinental passen-
ger plane, its gleaming sides
reflecting the airport floodlights, and
its motors idling almost silently,
slipped out of the sky, landed grace-
fully and taxied to a stop at New
York's La Guardia airport on a bit-
terly cold spring night.

Brian Aherne, muffled to the ears
and carrying a huge bouquet of
roses, and a dozen film studio
executives rushed toward the pas-
senger exitway as airport attend-
ants rolled a gangplank to the
plane's side and a comely stewardess
opened the oval door.

A wisp of a girl, fashionably
dressed in a mink coat and hat and
wearing a corsage of orchids, stood
silhouetted for a moment in the
bright light of the plane's interior,
blew a kiss toward Aherne, waved
to the crowd and stepped gracefully
and with distinguished poise down
the gangplank.

Then it happened.

The girl in the mink coat and hat
and wearing a corsage of orchids
started to walk away from the plane
on the icy ground and first one foot,
then the other, went into a sideslip

and left the ground. An airport
guard reached her just as she was
about to do an Immelman turn,
righted her and practically carried
her off the field.

"Can you imagine it?" chuckled
Joan Fontaine. "My first trip to
New York during the run of my first
starring picture at Radio City's
Music Hall — a reception committee
waiting for me — a mink coat and a
corsage of orchids — a grand
entrance — and I go into a tailspin
and almost fall flat on my face!"

Any other movie queen would
have tried to hush up such an
embarrassing moment. But not Joan
Fontaine, who possesses a sense of
humor which has set Hollywood on
its proverbial ear in recent months.
Joan Fontaine can laugh at herself.
And because she's a "regular guy,"
Hollywood laughs with her , not at her.

Go anywhere in Hollywood these
days — to the Brown Derby, to the
bar at Ciro's, to exclusive private
parties — and you're certain to hear
people talking about Joan Fontaine,
the amusing things she says and the
amusing things that happen to her.

Ironically, [Continued on page 44]

Marxmen

*t the Trail

By TOM DeVANE

\»w it is Groncho, Chico
and Harpo who are saying,
"Drap thorn shoot in* irons,
pard, and reach bnzzard-
wards," as they prospect
the West for new comedy
claims in Way Out 'West

| Mrs. William Powell can't even look
at Harpo Marx.

She can face the fast-talking Groucho
without a qualm, and his brother Chico
is just another comic to her. But that
Harpo!

Diana Lewis, Bill Powell's eye-filling
bride, is the leading lady of the long-
awaited Marx Brothers' Way Out West,
and she admits it's a tough job. Harpo
keeps making faces at her in their scenes
together, and he breaks her up!

She shouldn't be worried, though. Many
players of years' more experience than
Diana think that Harpo is the funniest
man in the world. Harpo even breaks up
his brothers — who in return spend hours
thinking up outrageous gags to play on
him.

I'd never visited a Marx Brothers set
before, and my day with the three brothers
and their troupe had me on my rubber

Chico and Groucho try to

act like successful confidence men while Harpo cuts up

heels. It's a completely wacky set. Every-
one is having fun.

Plots generally don't count too much in
Marx Brothers pictures (as a matter of
fact, Groucho, during a chase scene of the
new picture, passes a cemetery which
advertises Plots fx>r Sale. Says Groucho,
with a leer, "That's the first time I ever
had a plot in a picture of mine!")

The bemoustachioed Marx has one of
his familiar braggadocio roles. He's a fake
stock promoter, one S. Quentin Quayle,
who hears that there's gold to be had in
those thar western hills, and he's out
to get it. Before he has a chance to buy
his railroad ticket, he is soundly rooked
by two eccentrics who are also heading
west. You've guessed it — Harpo and
Chico. But S. Quentin Quayle also meets
a fine, upstanding young westerner (John
Carroll) which is later to prove a good
thing for him.

Harpo and Chico get to the West long
before Groucho, but they all have their
misadventures. The first two promptly
get jobs with an old desert rat at his
claim called Dead Man's Gulch. In return
for their services he gives him the deed
to the claim.

That's where all the trouble starts.
Everyone wants the deed to Dead Man's
Gulch, especially the railway that wants
to build through it, and is offering a nifty
sum of money. John Carroll wants it
because he traveled all the way to New
York to sell the company the idea. And
the villains, New York style (Walter
Woolf King) and Western Brand (Robert
Barrat), want the deed so they can sell
the railroad company their property, not
nearly so good as Dead Man's Gulch.

As usual, it's the gags that count — and
the Marxes have some beauties in Way
Out West. Groucho was doing a fiery

HOLLYWOOD

scene when I arrived on the set. He was
facing down Walter Woolf King and
Robert Barrat, big bruisers both.

"'I came up here," he storms indignantly,
"expecting to cheat those guys out of ten
thousand dollars. Now you want me to
cheat them out of only five hundred!
What do you think I am — a cheat?" But
he still gets thrown out, and later, with
the aid of Harpo and Chico, breaks into
the offices of the Crystal Palace (Barrat's
fancy dance emporium) .

Harpo, being a man of initiative, blows
up the safe with a toy cannon. Heaven
knows where he got it — but where does
Harpo get most of his props? But he
manages to toss the deed, which the vil-
lains had purloined, out of the window to
Diana Lewis, who has more claim to it
than any of the others. Then starts one
of the maddest chases you've ever seen,
with the villains pursuing Diana, and the
Marxes pursuing them!

It would be nice to report that the
Marxes are sane, industrious thes-
pians who attend strictly to busi-
ness except when in front of the
cameras. But they aren't. Workers
on Marx pictures know they'll
probably come home after a day's
work, weak from exhaustion.

Perhaps Chico is the biggest
prankster. He's always losing his
wardrobe — in spite of a man

Harpo's combination whisk-
broom and revolver comes in
handy when villain Robert
Barrat pulls his six-shooter

assigned to the set to see that he doesn't.
Hats, vests and even pants disappear as if
by magic, because Chico is quite careless.

I saw one major crisis. Everything was
ready to start shooting (even Groucho had
his painted moustache and eyebrows on —
and he never puts them on until the last
moment) and it was discovered that Chico
had lost his derby. A loud cry of "Chico's
derby!" went up. Everyone started peer-
ing into dark corners where it might be
hidden. But no hat. Finally Groucho, who
had refused to join in the search, said.
"Why don't you look in the refuse can?"

Director Eddie Buzzell gave him a
glance of withering scorn, but impatiently

moved toward the refuse can and opened
the lid. The derby was there all right —
on Chico! Just another gag worked up by
the two Marxes to make the day brighter
— and the director nervous.

Chico has one peculiarity. He's mad for
the telephone. Just give him a telephone
and he's happy. He makes dozens of calls
a day. To whom? Oh, just anybody — his
brokers, his tailor, his agents. Besides
that he loves to answer the set phone — a
duty generally reserved for the prop boy
— just to try out one of his weird variety
of accents on the unsuspecting phoner.

Chico has five phones at his Beverly
Hills home, [Continued on page 42]

Harpo, the intrepid pio-
neer, expects the worst
of the West and so is
prepared for all
major emergencies

DECEMBER, 1940

The
Rebel Returns

Katharine Hepburn, who long since won the
title of "Rebel" from an irritated Holly-
wood, is back, and the darling of the lot

By JOHN R. FRANCHEY

■ She left Hollywood, Katie did, on a rip tide of bile, vowing
never to come back until Hollywood had mended its ways
or Hepburn had suffered a mental relapse.

You can imagine how surprised this reporter was the other day
to run into her on M-G-M's Philadelphia Story set serving tea
(during an intermission) to the whole crew, as meek as Miss
Muffet, tractable as a Bloomer Girl, and full of sweetness and light.

Well, there she was, all right, the reconstructed rebel, caparisoned
in a sheer peach job, frisky as a colt, yet cutting cake for the gaffers
and lighters and hangers-on as if she were the president of the
local W.C.T.U., cake which she had fetched from her own house
and tea that she had bought (so help us!) at $1.60 the pound.

Edging closer to this most incredible apparition, we stared hard
at the hostess. It was our Katie, all right. And, as usual, completely
in charge, kidding the pants off an electrician and at the same time
discussing Winston Churchill with an assistant cameraman. To
watch the guests go to town with the oolong and patisserie you
would never have dreamed that, up until the astonishing Katie
swooped down on the scene, the boys were content to while away
idle moments by attacking an Eskimo pie and discussing nothing
more world-shaking than the astonishing Brooklyn Dodgers.

Tiffin over, Director George Cukor sidled over and wondered
whether or not it would be O.K. to get going with the day's
shooting. While they lined up the shot, we bagged one of the
overalled tea-hounds and asked how come.

"It was HER idea. Naturally we didn't cotton to it at first. We
thought it was sissy stuff. By now we're used to it. In fact, we
couldn't get along without our afternoon tea. It's the best
pick-me-up in the world." He directed an
admiring glance on stage where

3 Utiles Stewart and Ruth Hussey play the unhappy
reporters who have the grim duty of crashing the
wending, and getting inside story for society pages

Even the Imller thinks thai reporters aren't people.
James Stewart was just admiring wedding presents,
hut heroines guiltily alarmed tinder the butler's eye

Katie and George Cukor were going
round-and-round in heated argument
and continued.

"Great girl, Miss Hepburn. I've
worked on many a set where the star
and the cast drank tea. But this is the
first time we hired hands have ever
been invited to the party."

Finally they were ready to shoot,
so we strolled over. It was a love
scene, involving our Kate and Jimmy
Stewart.

"Roll 'em," Mr. Cukor would say to
the cameramen. Then Jimmy would
proceed with his wooing.

Twice Mr. Cukor frowned and said,
"No dice. Let's try it again." Miss
Hepburn looked gallant and non-
plussed. Jimmy grinned, as he took
her in his arms. He recited his lines
of promise and adoration. It seemed
a wonderful take. Cukor must have
thought so too, because he yelled
"Save it."

Miss Hepburn let out a snort.

"That was perfectly dreadful, and
we're going to do it again."

The crew, totally awed, settled back
to their chores. The sixth take was
okayed by both George Cukor and his
star. Then another rest period.

You'll have to take the word of this
one-man inquisition that Katharine
Hepburn in motion on a sound stage
is the most dynamic item in pictures.
Dietrich commands the respect of her
crew. Rita Hayworth gets their eye.
Norma Shearer enjoys their coopera-
tion. But Katharine Hepburn rates
their best licks, their top zeal and
their undivided attention.

They like her, these assorted artists
and artisans do, because she's herself.

When she wants to lift her peach
skirt, al fresco, way up on her thigh
to investigate a bruise, she'll do so,
and a plague take Mrs. Grundy. When
she thinks she's muffed a take, she'll
beat Cukor to the tape and admit it.
And when she needs advice on a
scene — a rare occasion, to be sure

The famous scene of the moon-
lit dip in the pool can be shown
on the screen to better advan-
tage than on the stage

—she'll humbly ask how the Di-
rector thinks it ought to be done.

The general affection for Hepburn
is omnipresent. Let her yell for a
cigarette and a dozen basso profundo
voices, swelling each time the word
is repeated, will send stout echoes
zooming toward Louis B. Mayer's
office almost a mile away.

"Myrtle!" piped up K. H., in search
of needle and thread. "MYRTLE!"
chorused a carpenter. "MYRTLE!!"
echoed a studio cop 440 yards away.
In no time at all poor Myrtle came
a-running, terrified almost out of her
petticoat.

A good deal has happened to Katie
since she last cavorted before a
camera in a picture called Holiday.
She left Hollywood on the heels of
her nomination as "box-office poison,"
in the wake of a batch of pictures that
were no more meant for Hepburn
than they were for Mickey Rooney,
muttering oaths to the effect that she
was leaving pictures to the "morons"
who make them.

Things rocked along until a play-
wright named Philip Barry wrote a
play for her called Philadelphia Story.
It fitted the Hepburn personality
exactly, and it brought Katie out of
hiding.

The play opened on Broadway late
in 1938. If there was a certain dogged
determination in the way Katie
limned the beclouded heroine who
parted with her amiable husband
because of a conflicting emotion she
felt toward the moon and Nature, the
explanation was simple: she was bat-
tling the spectre of her last stage
appearance in an unsuccessful play,
The Lake, which she tossed off during
a vacation from Hollywood, back in
1932, when she had another mad on.

The return of the renegade was
heralded by the critics with lush
adjectives. Said one critic:

"Last night's festivities at the Shu-
bert Theater [Continued on page 56]

The high comedy of the wedding
scene with Cary Grant and James
Stewart as groom and best man
makes a funny ending

V A\

,^>

Swi*t

)

noum*0

Good *******

Suburban life is much the same the
world over in that you must get a-
long with your neighbors if life is to
be worth living. Here is how some
of the stars take eare of the problem

By HELEN LOUISE WALKER

| The Chester Laucks (he's "Lum," of
radio's "Lum and Abner") had just
moved into their San Fernando Valley
ranch home and their very first dinner
guests had been urged to arrive early so
that they might admire the new estate
and enjoy the view in the late afternoon
sun. After the first half dozen had ar-
rived Mrs. Lauck was apologetic because
the host was nowhere to be seen.

"Chefs gone next door," she explained.
^jaJ^Dve^^to ^Clavk sGable>^rto.borrow a
couple of cats."'^IS5?sfc<?rnilitorequire
more explanation so she went on, "We
hadn't been here a day before we dis-
covered that the place was overrun with
gophers. So Chet went over to ask Clark
whether he used traps or poison. Clark
said that he just used old-fashioned cats.
He said that he had some to spare, and
that if Chet would wait until he could
round up a few he'd lend them to us. . . .
Here comes Chet now!"

Chet chugged up in a station wagon
and detailed a squad of his male guests
to assist in unloading several gunny sacks
of squealing felines which were to be
confined temporarily in a shed. "Clark
says I'm to feed 'em just enough to make
'em feel at home and make 'em like me —
but not enough to keep them from being
hungry when I turn them loose tomorrow
night to hunt gophers," Chet announced.
"These are," he added, impressively,
"Gable's own, personal cats . . . trained
to hunt gophers!" Slicing the mackerel
which was to endear him to the cats, he
said, "Nothing like having a good neigh-
bor. Now we'll have to think up something
nice to do for the Gables!"

There you are, you see. That's the new
Hollywood as it spreads out in ever-
widening circles. One happy family. At
least where gophers are concerned — and
vegetables and babies and sewer assess-

C. Aubrey Smith is not watching the
sunset. He is watching his pumpkin
patch and his neighbor, Myrna Loy

ments and flower pots. Things
haven't changed much at the studios,
one must admit. There are still
options and jealousies and gossip and
the question of whether glamour is
really box office, after all. But in the
open spaces, where they get away from
it all in clusters, a positively bucolic
neighborliness prevails.

An hour or so later he was called to the phone
and Myrna's demure voice cooed, "I do wish you'd
come to dinner! We're going to have something
I think you'd like. Pumpkin pie!" And now it's '
simply astonishing how many of C. Aubrey's
biggest pumpkins seem to come undone and go
rolling down the hill toward the Hornblow wall.
0|ice or twice a voice has been heard shouting,
'Tjkppee! More pie!" as a pumpkin splattered. But
a gentleman of C. Aubrey Smith's dignity would

jickey Rooney firmly believes that a good neigh-
W is a good provider. Here he is with his kitchen

4»

hardly be shouting, "Yippee!" Or would
he?

Screen stars do seem to huddle together
even when they move "far into the
country." Bob Armstrong hides away on
an estate which adjoins Spencer Tracy's
and they are both so secluded that they
have to have mailboxes on posts outside
their gates with their names on them.
So-o-o some prankish boys switched the
boxes on the very evening that friends
had planned a surprise party for Bob.
And no one could have been more sur-
prised than the Tracys when several car-
loads of merrymakers appeared on the
doorstep chanting, "Happy birthday to
you!" And not a birthday coming up
in the Tracy household for months. And
there was poor Bob, sitting at home wist-
fully waiting to be surprised all to pieces.
It's pretty pathetic, you know, to expect
to be surprised and
have the party go

astray! You'll be comforted to know that
Spencer re-routed this one and that Bob
was able to open his eyes that wide and
cry, "Fancy your doing all this for me!"
before the evening was too far advanced.
It's a trifle complex sometimes for a
young and beauteous lady who lives the
rural life alone. Like Brenda Marshall
who lives out in the Valley in sedate se-
clusion with an elderly housekeeper
chaperon to make everything proper. So
it was quite all right, of course, when
Jeffrey Lynn, moving into the. neighbor-
hood, called up one evening to wail that
there was something wrong with the
plumbing at his house and please, please
could he come over to Brenda's and take
a bath? Brenda was hospitable as any-
thing. She was just
home from retakes on

The Sea Hawk and had no notion of taking
off make-up or costume until she had
rested a while. She was doing this quietly
when Bill Holden arrived, resplendent in
tails and white tie, to take her to a party
which had completely slipped her mind
. . . what with the retakes. Bill, you
know, is such a "good friend" of Brenda's
that the two of them are constantly de-
nying their engagement.

Well, while Brenda was trying to ex-
plain to Bill about forgetting their date,
sounds of splashings and singings began
to drift in from the bathroom. Presently
Jeffrey appeared, rosy and scrubbed and
cheerful, in slacks [Continued on page 531

G°od v *«* * *°£ the **

each P0|Pl|w"

bor^ott«[ S- van

Oh. A sarong!

Spencer Tracy's garden is famous,
and if you are a neighbor you can
borrow a beet or a turnip any time

Oh. Oh Oh and ouch! A sarong!

Bottr*ood'*

Suburban life is much the same the
world over in that you must get a-
long with your neighbors if life is to
be worth living. Here is how some
of the stars take care of the problem

By HELEX LOUISE WALKER

■ The Chester Laucks (he's "Lum," of
radio's "Lum and Abner") had just
moved into their San Fernando Valley
ranch home and their very first dinner
guests had been urged to arrive early so
that they might admire the new estate
and enjoy the view in the late afternoon
sun. After the first half dozen had ar-
rived Mrs. Lauck was apologetic because
the host was nowhere to be seen.
"Chefs gone next door," she explained.

-^r

«***"

:»Oves, Jp jClark , Gable's—to ^bo_rr o w a
couple of cats." * <*SW? stmilr to require
more explanation so she went on, "We
hadn't been here a day before we dis-
covered that the place was overrun with
gophers. So Chet went over to ask Clark
whether he used traps or poison. Clark
said that he just used old-fashioned cats.
He said that he had some to spare, and
that if Chet would wait until he could
round up a few he'd lend them to us. . . .
Here comes Chet now!"

There you are, you see. That's the new
Hollywood as it spreads out in ever-
widening circles. One happy family. At
least where gophers are concerned — and
vegetables and babies and sewer assess-

C. Aubrey Smith is not watching the
sunset. He is watching his pumpkin
patch and his neighbor, Myrna Loy

Take Myrna Loy and the pumpkins.
Myrna didn't actually mean to swipe a
pumpkin — I guess. But it did belong to
C. Aubrey Smith, whose garden is just up
the hill from that of Myrna and Arthur
Hornblow. C. Aubrey planted those pump-
kins with his own hands and took great
pride in them. One day a large one detached
itseflf from the vine and rolled down the hill
to foreak with a "Klumph!" against Myrna's
garden wall. Smith was hastening down the
hiB. to gather up the pieces when he saw
lovely Myrna leaning over the wall, scooping.
That's the word. Scooping! Well, a gentleman
lfoe C. Aubrey couldn't embarrass a lovely
lf.dy, could he? He hid behind a bush.
' An hour or so later he was called to the phone
and Myrna's demure voice cooed, "I do wish you'd
come to dinner! We're going to have something
I think you'd like. Pumpkin pie!" And now it's
s&nply astonishing how many of C. Aubrey's
biggest pumpkins seem to come undone and go
rolling down the hill toward the Hornblow wall.
Ojice or twice a voice has been heard shouting,
"Yippee! More pie!" as a pumpkin splattered. But
a gentleman of C. Aubrey Smith's dignity would

(ickey Rooney firmly believes that a good neigh-
\>r is a good provider. Here he is with his kitchen

■?,r$^

*:?r£ *»«*'"*•

watci
tfote

fclni

xho**5

serf

oei«*

hardly be shouting, "Yippee!" Or would
he?

astray! You'll be comforted to know that
Spencer re-routed this one and that Bob
was able to open his eyes that wide and
cry, "Fancy your doing all this for me!"
before the evening was too far advanced.
It's a trifle complex sometimes for a
young and beauteous lady who lives the
rural life alone. Like Brenda Marshall
who lives out in the Valley in sedate se-
clusion with an elderly housekeeper
chaperon to make everything proper. So
it was quite all right, of course, when
Jeffrey Lynn, moving into the- neighbor-
hood, called up one evening to wail that
there was something wrong with the
plumbing at his house and please, please
could he come over to Brenda's and take
a bath? Brenda was hospitable as any-
thing. She was just
home from retakes on

The Sea Hawk and had no notion of taking
off make-up or costume until she had
rested a while. She was doing this quietly
when Bill Holden arrived, resplendent in
tails and white tie, to take her to a party
which had completely slipped her mind
• . . what with the retakes. Bill, you
know, is such a "good friend" of Brenda's
that the two of them are constantly de-
nying their engagement.

Good

Bob

each

i.„ regard bvi«R
are those ^Vfhe fcou*5 of

„ «jv'8 neigb-
are Nefco» ^'portrait
IS^utave-P-^fS doing
boriJ" «r g. van •"

Spencer Tracy's garden is famous,
and if you are a neighbor you can
borrow a beet or a turnip any time

Meet John Doe

He is a long, raw-boned baseball player
in this new comedy, and he loses his skill,
his job and almost his mind before the
last of his adventures is complete

By DUNCAN INDEKHILL

B Meet John Doe. Not the unknown
criminal of police court parlance but
a big, rangy right-handed pitcher on a
bush league baseball team, a guy with a
puzzled expression, a wind-up like Christy
Mathewson and the temperament and
background of Dizzy Dean.

That's Gary Cooper in the name part of
Frank Capra's latest addition to his por-
trait gallery of lovable and faintly cuckoo
Americans. Mr. Deeds, it will be remem-
bered, went to town under Mr. Capra's
direction. Mr. Smith went to Washington.
Mr. Doe, in the present undertaking, goes
broke and berserk, in the order named.

For the good round sum of $1,500,000 of
his own money, Mr. Capra tells, in Meet
John Doe, what happens when a pretty
fair, country ball-player burns his arm out
pitching a 19-inning game. He goes on
the bum Mr. Capra concludes, and meets
up with a whimsical hobo (Walter Bren-
nan) , who inoculates him with philosophy.

The process by which the pitched-out
pitcher loses his identity and becomes
John Doe is bound up with a circulation -
building stunt dreamed up by Barbara
Stanwyck, who plays the conductor of the
Odds and Ends column on a metropolitan
newspaper. From there on John is the
exact center of an emotional maelstrom
made up of equal parts of rapidly revolv-
ing money, power, love and hysteria.

Frank Capra, as is his custom, paints
his big scenes with a broad brush. When
his story requires a mob, he hires a mob
of 4,000 people. When the script calls for
a riot he sees to it that furniture, hats, and
a few heads are banged up.

John Doe is the first production venture
of a new company called Frank Capra,
Inc. The incorporators are Frank Capra
and his writer-collaborator, Robert Riskin,
with whom he has made eleven pictures,
each more successful than its predecessor.
Every nickel that goes into John Doe is
out of the treasury of Frank Capra, Inc.,
although the picture is being made at the
huge Warner Brothers plant in Burbank
and will be sold to theaters as Warner
Brothers merchandise.

It is nothing unusual for a ranking pro-
ducer-director to set up his own company.
A dozen have done it with varying degrees

of success. What is unusual about the

Capra venture is that he is laying out

his own money and not drawing any

salary for his efforts, staking his

chances of profit entirely on the

public's acceptance of his work.

Riskin, [Continued on page 46]

Gary Cooper practices some

winding up for his role

of the country baseball

player, and Barbara

Stanwyck gets into the

right mood for her

role of the rough and

i ready newspaper gal

Double X(mas)

Of coarse Dorothy Lamour admires and
respects sarongs. They, among other
things, made her what she is today ...
a great star (her next film is Moon Over
Burma) but she also feels that their place
is strictly in the studio, not in the home

What lovely packages. Isn't everybody
so sweet to remember me with all these
gifts! Just can't wait to see inside

Maybe it's perfume! Or china!

Oh. A saron;

Now this looks promising!

Oh. Oh. A sarong!

Oh. Oh Oh and ouch! A sarong!!!

Zorro Comes Back

DEAR EDITOR:

I am sitting in a cozy chair at a
table in the Twentieth Century-Fox
commissary while I listen patiently
to a bunch of the boys whoop it up
about The Mark of Zorro, a picture
that's to go into production with
Tyrone Power and Linda Darnell
starring. I am letting it go in one
big ear and out the other as I sit
there wondering about how I
am going to take up the slack
in a little note reading "Not
Sufficient Funds" a banker boy
sent me that very morning.
Maybe I would be sitting there
yet and wondering about these
things only Harry Brand, pub-
licity director and a swell guy
in spite of it, came barging
along from another table and
says, without stopping, "Okay,
Milt, give this glamour boy an-
other job. He looks broke — as usual."
Well, you know me. Scarcely had
his words died out midst the clatter
of the crockery, than I had this Milt
(last name Howe) by the arm and
was leading him over to the casting
office where, in no time at all, I got
myself an extra job.

Before I give you any intimate de-
tails of my extra work on this pic-
ture, perhaps I'd better get you
straight on what The Mark of Zorro
is about.

If you were going to movies twenty
years ago you certainly can remem-
ber The Mark of Zorro with Douglas
Fairbanks, Sr., playing the
role of Zorro. And if you've
ever read California history
you recall that this Zorro gent
was a bold bad bandit who

Tyrone Power fights it out
with Basil Rathbone in the
duel from The Mark of Zorro

Our favorite extra gets bitten by
some snake-bite cure and pinked
by a rapier and decides that the
good old days were simply awful

By E. .1. (Native Son) S\IITIISO\

freed his people of Spanish tyranny. Well,
Twentieth Century-Fox which owns
several of the Zorro tales, written by
Johnson McCully in 1915 and 1916 under
the name of The Curse of Capistrana de-
cided to revive this bold, bad bandit with
Tyrone Power in the leading role and
with the beautiful Linda Darnell taking
on the duties of the feminine lead.
Throughout production, the picture has
pleased the studio's executives so highly
that it has now been announced as the
first of a series of Zorro highjinks — which
ought to be good news for movie fans.

When I reported for work the following
morning after wrangling a job from the
casting director, I was herded into a truck
along with a score of other extras and
driven to Agoura, California, where
Director Rouben Mamoulian had built a
beautiful city representing Los Angeles
around the year 1820. As a matter of
historical fact, Los Angeles in 1820 was
a squatty, adobe settlement inhabited by
a motley assortment of some 600 Indians
and half-breeds with a smattering of
Spaniards and one lone American. Of
course Director Mamoulian savvies all
this 1820 business, but he decided that
such a primitive outpost would never do,
so he up and stretched history thin enough
to tidy up the joint. Not only did he do
this, but he peopled this glistening city
with dashing caballeros, gentlemen ad-
venturers and flirtatious senoritas. All of
which should please the Los Angeles
chamber of commerce — as it did me, espe-
cially the flirtatious senoritas.

History was followed closely, though,
in re-creating the plaza on North Main
Street, which was first laid out in 1818.
The first church, still standing, was copied
accurately, as was the village school
where the headmaster, so early Los
Angeles records show, earned the mag-
nificent sum of one hundred and forty
bucks a year!

As Zorro, Tyrone plays a triple role,
without the aid of mirrors or make-up. I

don't know whether or not he gets paid
three salaries for these three different
roles, but anyway, he acts himself at
home, pretends to be a Spanish fop in
public, and turns to swashbuckling
banditry at night — and he does exceed-
ingly well at all three tasks. To make him
a fop the studio spent $15,000 for beaded
silks, satins, and velvets to make him such
a wardrobe that would bring a distinct
gleam of envy in the gentle eyes of Alice
Faye or Loretta Young. Another thing
while I'm rambling along on Tyrone. He
doesn't jump over as many walls as did
Doug Fairbanks who made a tremendous
leap on an average of every three minutes
in The Mark of Zorro. I asked Director
Mamoulian about this curtailment of leaps
and jumps and he told me that times had
changed. The movie fans, he said, would
split their weskits and girdles if he had
Ty doing the jumps that Fairbanks did.
In the picture Ty jumps aboard his horse
just twice, he leaps once over a wall and
swings down from a balcony — and that's
the end of it so far as jumping is con-
cerned.

This Mamoulian, in case you're un-
aware of it, is quite a guy. Hardly had
we extras assembled on the set and had
gotten busy shining up our rapiers to do
a little fancy rapiering and loaded up our
guns to do some fancy gunning than this
Mamoulian shouts over his public address
system that he wanted us 500 extras to
howl with pain as the Spanish soldiers
began slashing their way through the
crowd. "Let's start off shooting with a
one-take," he announced. "I want this
sequence to bring us good luck. Remem-
ber that operation you had and how much
you suffered when you came out of the
ether? Howl like you did then. And
listen. If I get my one-take I'm going to
give you a good bonus!"

The cameras started rolling a few
seconds later, the soldiers started their
slashing, and we extras, with that good
bonus in mind, started howling — and if

you didn't hear us as you sat in your
elaborate New York editorial chair, Miss
Editor, you'd better have your dainty,
pearl-like ears examined because we put
up such a fine yipping, shrieking, and
yelling that the sound man had to buy
himself a brand new mike!

Before the day was over this Mamou-
lian pulled another stunt that just about
shocked everybody into insensibility.

After this "howling" sequence, he
called the cast and crew together and
gave 'em a talk.

"I think," he began, "that the people
who have spent years on the sets should
have a hand in directing a picture. The
grips, the juicers, the cameramen, the
script girl and all the rest of you, includ-
ing the extras, have plenty of good ideas.
I want you to stop me at any time with
suggestions, and if you disagree with
something I'm doing I want you to tell
me. Even if you're up on the catwalks,
I want you to shout down. I'm going to
have the script girl keep track of the
ideas we use, and I'll see that those who
really help get full credit. Who knows?
Maybe we'll get a new director or two
out of you folks."

Well, I'm here to tell you when he
finished everyone was so amazed that they
were literally speechless. It's one of
Hollywood's oldest maxims that the
director is always right and no one should
ever bother him during production. A
lot of swell ideas came out of that talk
and several members of the various crews
got more than favorable mention from
this clever director. Everyone hopes that
he's established a new Hollywood movie
custom. You'll see better pictures from
now on if this proves true.

The next day we renewed our fencing
sequences with Basil Rathbone and
Tyrone Power staging a humdinger of a
stabbing match. Rathbone, before he was
through, suffered a deep gash over his
right eye and likewise a couple of locks
of hair when [Continued on page 48]

You won't get wet when you go upsy-
daisy in Ann Miller's White Stag Ski
Togs! "Snugger" jacket has wool knit
bands at wrist, neck, waist, is Talon
fastened to keep out wind. Grand for
skiing and skating. Downhill trousers
of wool gabardine are tapered to flatter

The North Wind doth blow,
but the flash red of Kayser's
ski-undies will keep you snug
as a bug! Elastic at instep
keeps long drawers down;
the undershirt doubles as a
sweater! ($2 each.) On ice,
or afterwards, Maiden Form's
Curtsy (panty) girdle gives
controlled freedom. $1. It's
an old cow hand — U. S. Rub-
ber's Galosh Overboot, to
slip over any shoe in bad
weather, $2.95. Stick the
Dobbs beanie ($5) of
stitched jersey in your pocket
when you're not wearing it!
Kimball's shawl, of spun
rayon and wool, is a 26-inch
square, comes in eight
plaid patterns., costs $1

A sweater to in-vest in! Helen Harper
thought up clever idea of combining
angora sleeves with wool "vestee"
front. Ann's classic hat is Rustic,
designed by Chalfonte for all smart
girls who like flattery. You'll see
Ann in Republic's Hit Parade of 1941

Pick winter pastels for news
value, indoors or out. Here Ann
wears a coat dress with contrast-
ing panel stitching at collar,
cuff, down the front. It was
designed by Ann Sutton, and
made in a Duplan fabric of
Tubize Acetate Rayon. Her
jersey beanie, for back of the
head wearing, is from Dobbs

Look peasant, please! Ann's
"swissie" sweater, in white or
light shades with contrasting
embroidery, is from Rosanna,
her hood and mitten set, of
colorful brushed rayon, from
Kayser. You can buy these
winter accessories in gay colors
to make you the sport you are

Pleats please the eye, and your
figure, in Ann's smart shirtwaist
dress styled by Lord's. Note the
bloused back — it's pure flattery.
The Duplan fabric, made of
Tubize Acetate Rayon, holds its
shape and the press of your
pleats, will resist crushing, creas-
ing as well. Make your next
dress of it for service and chic

TURN TO PAGE 58

for a list of stores where you
can buy these inexpensive togs.
If none of these shops are near
you, your fashion editor will
direct you to one in your city.
Just send her a penny post
card, telling her which fashions
you are interested in. Address
Candida, HOLLYWOOD
Magazine, 1501 Broadway,
New York City.

•lack Benny and Fred Allen
have been lying in ambush
for each oilier with every-
thing from slurs to slugs while
working on their co-starring
comedy, Love Thy Neighbor

It v .1 A 31 F S F

$ 1 II F F II

■ This is the saga of two residents of
glass houses who have been throwing
stones, fists, half-Nelsons, slurs, and,
among other sundry properties, the well-
known Bull at one another.

It is the saga of Fred (Two-Fist) Allen
and, as Fred says, "Jack (Two-Face)
Benny," anti-one-another stars of Para-
mount's musicomedy Love Thy Neighbor,
whose other entries on the asset side
include Mary Martin and that colored duo,
Rochester and Theresa Harris.

The actual enmity, friendship, or

whatever-it-is-ship of Benny Kubelsky,
as Jack Benny was christened on the day
the Waukegan, Illinois, stork airmailed
him to Mom Benny, and John F. Sullivan,
alias Fred Allen, cannot be packed into
a few words.

Not even in a few paragraphs. Some say
Buck Benny feels mildly nauseous toward
Allen. Others say Fred feels the same way
toward Benny. But unless you prod one
with slurring barbs from the other, you
are likely to find them as eloquent about
one another as Geronimo.

Take a walk down Paramount's Avenue
D. But walk on the wide whitewashed line
in the center — that is, if you don't want to
become a participant in the Allen-Benny
feud, which has been raging since '36.

The right half is painted "Fred Allen's
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Their dressing rooms face one another a
hand-grenade distance across Avenue D.

A black-lettered sign on Sound Stage A
warns: DANGER— FLYING QUIPS! And
gals and guys, once you're in there, you're
on your own. [Continued on page 57]

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■F

Jean Arthur and Bill Holden in a scene
from the spectacular western, Arizona

Arizona Days

Bill Holden would rather rope an enraged bull an>
day than try to behave like a movie glamour boy

By JUAN TULARE

■ From this date on, William Holden,
the college boy who became
"Golden Boy," will never again have
any truck with glamour. He has dis-
covered the great outdoors, and he
loves it.

Jaws dark with a two-weeks' stubble
and sporting sideburns fancy enough
to arouse the envy of Senor Cesar
Romero, he strolled into conference
range the other day pretty well

weighted down by a western outfit
and somewhat bow-legged, seemed
like.

"This get-up," he hurried on to
explain, "is all part of my role in the
new Jean Arthur picture called
Arizona, and you see me fresh from
a savage fray with a posse of Apaches.
But you can bet your bottom dollar
that I brought the wagon train (twenty-
six men and beasts of burden) into

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1'ucson on schedule, attack or no attack.
Of course, after you've been fighting this
same battle for forty-four times you kind-
of get the hang of victory. Toward the
end, my mount, a rare sample of horse
flesh called Banner, got so bored fighting
the Apaches that I had to carry a portable
radio to keep him happy.

"The few months Arizona has been in
production have led me to believe that
the only screen characters that will ever
have any interest for me professionally
are living, breathing characters, good and
bad, but virile, outdoor, and believable
human beings. That's why I liked playing
Peter Muncie in Arizona. He's the kind
of guy that helped build this great South-
west out of sand and cactus. He's a proto-
type of all young adventurers who trickled
into the wilderness to make an empire.
He can fight; he has a sense of humor; he
owns a great faith in the future; and he
maintains a standing weakness for such
a pretty and fearless figure as Phoebe
Titus, who is played by Jean Arthur."

The mention of Jean Arthur was the
cue for a thirty-minute detour by young
Mr. Holden.

"I've always been a Jean Arthur
admirer, I guess," he began, "but this trip
has changed me into an idolater. First
off, she's an actress second to nobody, with
simplicity and naturalness as her long
suits. This I've always known. But Jean
Arthur as a person I met for the first time
about five months ago. And working with
her on the picture gave me a little insight
into what she's like.

"Take her dog show, the goofiest ever
held, at least in the state of Arizona. The
script called for about forty mongrel dogs
to haunt the environs of Tucson. They
had to be kept around as atmosphere for
about ten weeks. All this time Jean
Arthur personally cared for the animals.
She supplied them with sanitary water
pails, bought special dog food daily, and
spent more than $300 in veterinary fees.
One night, as a matter of fact, she climbed
into her car and drove from her ranch to
the set, a distance of eighteen miles, to see
if the dogs were bedded down all right. Of
course they were. Wes Ruggles had seen
to that.

"Well, anyhow, when the location work
was over, Jean began to fret about the
dogs again. Who would look after them
when we were gone? That is where the
dog show came in. It was Jean's idea.
The object was to place the dogs in good
homes.

"The show was held in the lobby of
Tucson's nicest hotel. Something like
2,500 Tucsonians dropped by. The furni-
ture and carpets were taken out of the
lobby which the studio carpenters had
made into an exhibition hall with grand-
stands draped in bunting, show-ramps
and what have you. The affair was covered
by the newspapers. Studio lights were set
up. Motion picture cameras occupied
strategic spots. There was a carnival
spirit in the air.

"Jean, in her costume as Phoebe Titus,
opened the show.

"Then there was a fanfare of trumpets,
following which twenty-eight mongrels,
bathed and manicured, were led into the

ring by as many attendants in red hunting
coats. They were separated into special
groups, working dogs, non-working dogs,
toy dogs, sporting dogs, et cetera. Each
group was judged by a woman member of
the Tucson kennel club, Miss Arthur
supervising."

"Were all the dogs claimed?" this ancient
sentimentalist interposed.

"Six hundred kids wanted twenty-eight
dogs," Mr. Holden replied. "It was all
settled by drawing numbers, I guess. Any-
how each owner got a three-year paid-up

V\^

"^^SK^aa*

Athletic Eddie Albert tries to convince
Priscilla Lane that keeping the feet on
the ground is not an easy task. This was
just a moment of relaxation during the
filming of their next show, Four Mothers

license for the pooch, an ample supply of
dog food and a harness and leash."

■ Getting back to himself, he admitted
that roughing it was the life for him.
Like on the Arizona set, for instance.
(This reporter, after hearing a typical
day's routine, wants no part of it.)

For three months he didn't shave, his
role calling for a youthful beard. He didn't
wear city clothes. Instead he kicked,
around all that time in cowboy boots,
denim Levi's and cowboy shirts.

At 6 a. m. he was rousted out of bed
by the jangling of the telephone, while
most glamour boys are turning over on
the other side, having piled into bed at
three after a night on the town.

By seven he was bathed, had brushed
his teeth, was dressed and through break-
fasting and waiting for the huge green
bus that carried him to the Old Tucson
location, some fourteen miles away, with
yipping cowboys, hoss wranglers, char-
acter actors, cameramen and what have
you, aboard.

At seven-twenty he checked in for a
day's work under a broiling sun. While
Director Ruggles lined up a shot, our
Holden would traipse over to the corral
to saddle his favorite mount, Banner.

When Ruggles wasn't shooting, there
was a host of things to perpetrate. There
was pistol practice and rifle practice
and riding practice. And so on up until
6:30 p. m.

We were just on the verge of recom-
mending that he institute action with the
National Labor Relations Board when
Holden remarked, face aglow:

"That Arizona set — it makes Hollywood
hard to take. There's nothing like the real
outdoors. Just let them try and put me
in a drawing-room comedy reeking with
purloined wit and cigarette smoke! Just
let 'em try to hand me glamour boy stuff!"

The young man's fears are a little pre-
mature. While he did do a chore as a
glamorous collegiate, more or less, in
Those Were the Days, as a real-life
glamour boy he is hardly what might be
termed well-equipped. He owns a mere
eleven ties ($2.50 top), three suits, and
has never been to Ciro's (although he
understands it's "quite a nice joint"), has
trouble keeping his hair in place, totes his
chummie, Warners' Miss Brenda Marshall,
to a movie when it's cold and to a badmin-
ton court when it's warm.

He has neither the dash of Tyrone
Power, the sleekness of Cesar Romero,
the debonair quality of Ray Milland, the
disturbing yet fetching brooding spirit
of Laurence Olivier or the splash of young
Master Rooney. Nor does he give two pins
about graduating later into a big-time
senior operator in glamour such as the
suave George Brent or the natty Walter
Pidgeon or even the whimsical Melvyn
Douglas.

But Paramount and Columbia, who own
his contracts, do a polka at the mention
of his name. His five pictures for four dif-
ferent studios were all box-office honeys.
Critics on the hard-to-fool New York
papers rave about his "artistic integrity
and genius for simplicity." And here he is
telling you it's nothing — nothing at all.

"Fundamentally I'm no actor," the lad
whose latest performance in Our Town
was hailed as "uncommonly stirring" told
us earnestly. "Mostly I'm a lucky guy.
It could have been anyone else. If it
weren't for a break, I'd be winding up my
education at U.S.C. and wondering how
soon Congress would push through con-
scription."

He gets this off his chest casually
enough, feet propped up nonchalantly on
a shiny desk temporarily vacated by a
Columbia executive, his hair on end and

a grave expression encamped on his open
and rugged face. He speaks with a quiet
drawl, resonant yet charmingly nasal, with
an earnestness and matter-of-fact quality
that you couldn't possibly mistake for
pseudo modesty. Occasionally he smiles.
Now and then he blinks or drops his gaze.
You don't have to be a Dr. Sigmund Freud
to conclude that he's shy-like.

Bill Holden isn't the best man in Holly-
wood to interview. To begin with, he's no
showman. He's genuinely baffled as to
why people should want to read about him.

"It could have happened to anyone," he
keeps insisting.

[ His horsemanship is the kind you read
about in the pulp paper magazine
stories. The professional cowboys on the
Arizona set were prepared to make him
look sick, this kid from Pasadena Junior
College who had snagged the role of the
hell-for-leather Peter Muncie. He not only
made them look like bloomer girls but,
in true serial fashion, he made himself a
hero the third day out. As follows:

Sam Nelson, temporarily in charge dur-
ing the illness of Director Wesley Ruggles,
was shooting action background for the
attack on the wagon train by the deadly
Apaches, bent on slaughter. During the
festivities, one of the covered wagons
burst into flame, ignited by a blazing
arrow. A frightened bull, thereupon,
crazed by cannonading and the sight of
fire, went berserk, charging through the
set and starting a stampede.

Up jumped Holden from a seat on a
corral fence, slung himself into the saddle,
gave spur and tore out. He reached the
bull just as the enraged animal was about
to plow into a group of extras. One whirl
of the lariat, a lightning pitch, and the bull
was brought to earth. In the nick of time,
too! The real cowboys and the hard-
riding, honest-to-goodness Apache
Indians threw a party for Bill that night.
And he was in.

■ Bill Holden is still charmingly dazed
about the fantastic streak of luck that
made him an important Hollywood figure
in one year. And humble. He cannot
shake himself loose from the suspicion
that it's all a gag. Consequently he lives
frugally. At the hands of a shrewd and
far-sighted business manager he is allowed
$20 a week spending money. Even for a
man of Bill's simple tastes this allowance
has often proved a little confining. On
location at Tucson he dreamed up a way to
bolster his income. He rented out his
car for $1 a night!

Some Hollywood wit has remarked that
Holden doesn't live. He simply camps out.
Villa Holden, to start with, is in North
Hollywood, costs fifty per month in rent
monies, boasts of no furniture to speak of
and is positively free from servant prob-
lems. He eats his meals in restaurants.
The Brown Derby sees very little of him.
It's too flossy.

For diversion he goes horseback riding.
Mostly he goes with Brenda Marshall who

is no slouch herself on a bronco. Rumor
has them engaged. Holden has denied this
as graciously as a gentleman, plainsman
variety, could possibly do. He loves to
shoot and is amassing a gun collection,
wheedling money when he can for special
items from his financial overseers. Miss
Marshall, too, is fond of shooting. They
shatter clay pigeons in mixed doubles.
He's a badminton bug. Ditto the lady.

He has no Hollywood friends to speak
of, except Claude Binyon, the writer. He's
inclined to be a lone wolf. He doesn't like
parties or pandemonium. He drinks only
now and then. He listens to alleged funny
stories strictly out of politeness. They
bore him. If he had a little more time off,
he'd go down to Mexico and bag a few
fish. Maybe "bag" isn't quite the right
word.

He thinks Jean Arthur is a star-
spangled Sarah Bernhardt. He'll knock the
block off of anyone who differs with him.
He admires her because she's "out-
spoken, intelligent and fair." Apropos of
nothing, all his leading ladies except Jane
Bryan were older than he, mostly because
he's merely twenty-two.

That fan mail of his ought to be probed
by a psychologist. Girls from Keokuk,
Iowa, and Kobe, Japan, write in to ask if
they can't move in and look out for him
the rest of his days. His mother sifts the
letters — it's a full-time job almost — and
sends him, of all things, only the letters
of intelligent and sincere criticism. Ac-
cording to his instructions.

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DMM STOPPED t/P? (/SB DBA WO

1 . "Bachelors make me laugh. Take
Bill. Cooks dinner for the Joneses and
me and brags it's a cinch."

'- ■!■

3. Drono puts the heat on down where
dirt stops up pipes. Its churning, chemi-
cal boiling action frees dirt, lets v/ater
flush it away.

2. "Then the pipes get stopped up and
he makes a man-size job of clearing the
drains. Me, I simply phone for Drano."

4. "I adore benedicts and Bill's going
to be one. He proposed (isn't that a
scream?) after I came to the rescue with
Drano."

Drano

CLEARS DRAINS

"P.S. We're going to use a tea-
spoonful of Drano after the
dinner dishes, when we set up
housekeeping. No stopped -up
drains for Mr. and Mrs. Us."

Coor. 1910. The Drackett Co.

The Boy Grows Older

[Continued from page 12]

sequence in which Citizen Kane's girl
friend, played by Dorothy Comingore, is
making her debut as an opera star.

Backstage all is bustle and confusion.
Miss Comingore, loaded down with all the
feathers and beads in the RKO wardrobe
department is supposed to sing to an un-
sympathetic audience, and she has the
jitters. There are dozens of extras in
vaguely Egyptian costumes — the opera is
modeled after one called Salammbo, al-
though the aria supposedly sung by Miss
Comingore has nothing to do with the
opera.

There is a final rehearsal — for the hun-
dred odd extras on the set must work with
precision in this scene. Finally, Orson says,
"We'll make one!" and the leading lady
takes her place in the center of the stage.
"Remember, honey, be frightened!" says
Orson, and Miss Comingore smiles re-
assuringly. The orchestra blares out an
overture, the curtains part, and the prima
donna, with sagging knees, slowly ad-
vances toward the footlights, her arms

outstretched. The conductor and prompt-
er are dramatically high-lighted in the
distance.

But Orson is not satisfied. He stops the
scene and goes hippity-hop over to his
leading lady. "Look, honey," he says,
"you're supposed to be scared to death.
Twitch your hands, and remember to
stumble a bit."

The next scene found the lady waving
her arms like semaphores, and she prac-
tically sagged to her knees during the
middle of the aria. Mr. Welles was satisfied.
It was a "long shot" and the over- em-
phasis, he felt, was needed. Then began
the long process of changing the camera
setup, for close-ups of Miss Comingore,
during which time I discovered what the
story was all about.

| Everyone says quite happily that
Citizen Kane hasn't a shred of plot.
It's a character study of an egomaniac from
the age of five to seventy-five (no, Orson
doesn't tackle the five-year-old part; he

comes on at twenty-one). Seems Kane
was born in Colorado in the great mining
camp days, and his mother, a kind-hearted
boardinghouse keeper, occasionally ac-
cepted stock instead of rent. When people
condemned her lack of business judgment,
she only smiled. And on her death, Citizen
Kane is left with twenty millions of dollars
to juggle around as he sees fit.

Kane is brash and cocky and antagonizes
practically everyone. Finally he buys the
town's largest newspaper and decides to
revolutionize journalism — at the age of
twenty-one. He starts a series of exposes
that has the city on its ear and crooked
politicians crying "uncle" and the rival
newspapers coining a new phrase — "yel-
low journalism."

There are two women in Citizen Kane's
life. His first wife is the niece of a Presi-
dent, and they're married on the White
House lawn. A screen newcomer named
Ruth Warrick, from New York via Kansas
City, plays the first wife with distinction,
I'm told. Mr. Welles signed her in New
York, where she has a nifty radio career,
after a mere five-minute interview.

■ Wife number two is Dorothy Comin-
gore, green of eye, red of hair. Now
I know you've never heard of Dorothy
Comingore — but how about Linda Win-
ters? Ya-a-h. That strikes a familiar note,
doesn't it? The Linda Winters whose brief
Hollywood career consisted for the most
part of posing for "cheesecake" and "leg
art" for the publicity department and Mr.
Welles' dramatic leading lady Dorothy
Comingore are one and the same.

Miss Comingore is by way of being a
protegee of Charlie Chaplin. He saw her do
a lead in a Carmel, California, Little
Theater production of The Cradle Song,
and told one and all that she was definite
movie material. The local papers played
it up big — the wire services picked it up —
and before she knew what was happening,
a slightly dazed Miss Comingore was sign-
ing a Warner Brothers contract. When
they told her she was to be known as Linda
Winters, she only blinked. They could
have called her Minnie Mouse — as long as
she got a chance to act.

Her acting consisted entirely of posing
for leg pictures. She didn't face a camera
her entire term at Warners, outside of the
"still" variety. The publicity was nice —
what girl doesn't enjoy seeing her picture
in the papers and magazines? — but Dor-
othy wanted to act.

When Warners dropped her, Miss Com-
ingore was signed by Columbia. Now
Columbia makes a lot of low budget pic-
tures, and westerns, and our Miss Comin-
gore thought surely she'd get a lead in one
of them. She got a lead in a picture, all
right — opposite the Three Stooges in a
short subject (the same girl whose deli-
cate, sensitive acting had been praised by
the great Charlie Chaplin). And her Co-
lumbia stint was a repetition of the Warner
term — more leg art, plus occasional bits as
a cigarette girl or show girl.

Miss Comingore isn't at all bitter about
her Hollywood career. "No one can say
I haven't learned the hard way," she grins
impishly.

She met Mr. Welles originally at a cock-

tail party and they got along famously.
He told her that he would get in touch
with her, which Dorothy dismissed with
a knowing shrug. But several weeks later
he did call her. Miss Comingore made a
test that was so good it's being kept in
the picture!

Her role in the picture is secondary only
to that of Mr. Welles'. I told you she was
supposed to be an opera singer — but she
meets Citizen Kane some time before her
debut. Under his protection, shall we say,
she studies voice — not that she has a great
one, but because Kane's ego demands that
she become a great star.

In the meantime Kane himself has run
for governor and been defeated, largely
due to the fact that one of his journalistic
rivals discovered that he had a m-i-s-
t^r-e-s-s. KANE DISCOVERED IN LOVE
NEST WITH SINGER! blare the headlines.
Even when he marries the lovely lady
(his first wife has long since passed away)
his political career is washed up.

■ By this time, Citizen Kane is an ugly
old man with virtually no friends.
Even his wife doesn't like him very much.
Her opera debut had ruined the only real
friendship of Kane's life — with the music
critic of his newspaper.

After that fiasco, Kane returns to the
newspaper offices to find his friend in a
drunken stupor at the typewriter, half-
way through a truthful and vitriolic re-
view of the new prima donna's singing.
Kane takes the review to another type-

writer and finishes it in the same vein and
sends it to the composing room. Then he
fires the music critic — his best friend! (I
saw this particular sequence being filmed,
and it's terrific.)

| Mr. Welles' make-up as an old man
is a triumph. And the credit all goes
to Mr. Welles. It seems that the gentle-
man had dozens of pictures run for him
at the studio when he first arrived in town.
Never a great movie fan (his last cinema
thrill was Greta Garbo in As You Desire
Me — which gives you a rough idea),
Welles squirmed and muttered through
quadruple and quintuple bills in the pro-
jection room.

Orson, of course, is a stickler for realism,
and one thing he noticed (as have many
of us) — that when players are required to
grow "old" on the screen, their make-up
is generally wonderful, but their eyes
remain completely youthful and alert. Mr.
Welles considered this nonsensical; he
knew perfectly well that the eyes grow
old along with the rest of the human body.

So when he started making tests of
himself and Joseph Cotton, who plays the
music critic, he experimented with spe-
cially made bloodshot convex lenses! Of
course, putting them in over the eyeballs
is a bit of a nuisance, because they sting
at first, and tears start to flow. But
Orson's going to be a real old man, if ever
you saw one, at the age of twenty-five, as
Citizen Kane.

■ Mr. Welles admits that he loves Holly-
wood with a vast devotion. He has
been quoted as saying that New York is
nothing but a roadstand — Broadway is
dead. Not only does Hollywood pay him
delicious dollars for his work, but he can
continue his coast-to-coast broadcasts.
Besides that, the climate is nice and the
ladies — especially the Mexican variety —
are divine. (The exotic, well-groomed
Miss Del Rio now accompanies Orson and
his friends on week-end fishing trips off
Catalina Island on smelly fishing boats.)

Furthermore, there's his dressing room.
It symbolizes all of Hollywood to him. It
used to be Gloria Swanson's — and the fur-
nishings, including the black bathtub,
were never changed. Mr. Welles takes
keen delight in plopping his feet onto her
fifty-dollar sofa cushions. It makes Holly-
wood seem more real to him somehow.

With the enthusiastic aid of Gregg
Toland, Orson is getting some wonderful
camera effects into Citizen Kane. He thinks
movies are entirely too brightly lighted —
and even plays several very dramatic
scenes in deep shadows. But Welles is
determined to introduce some innovations
into his picture — come what may.

Hollywood thinks — and I think, if that's
any comfort — that Citizen Kane will be
one of the most interesting, provocative
of the new season's movies. At least we'll
have a chance to see what the bogey-man
Orson Welles really looks like, away from
his Martian planet!

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Marxnieii Hit the Trail

[Continued from page 23]

including a flossy number to match the
dining room. He was clocked as receiving
fifteen or sixteen calls during one quiet
Marx dinner — and he made a few himself!

Harpo is a wonderful, if slightly pixi-
lated, family man. For instance, his three
and one-half-year-old son Billy, christ-
ened William Woollcott Marx, has turned
out to be a musical genius at his tender age.
Plays the piano, says Harpo, like a bud-
ding Mozart — and can remember classical
and symphonic music after one hearing.

Although Harpo takes all the bows, his
wife, the lovely Susan Fleming that was,
is supervising Billy's musical education.
Very wisely, she isn't pushing him. Be-
sides that, Billy is an adopted child, and
obviously gets his talent someplace else
than from "Papa" Harpo.

Let their son start in a couple of years
to learn his keyboard, says Mama Harpo,
and maybe Papa will finally break down
and learn to play by music. He can't, you
know. His skill at the piano and harp he
learned purely by ear! Chico, on the con-
trary, reads music like a fiend. But oddly
enough, he doesn't play the piano for
months on end. Only when working is
Chico a musician. Wouldn't you think that
keyboard wizardry would require hours of
daily practice?

But Chico only plays when his work
demands it. In Way Out West he's going
to pull a brand new stunt. He plays the
familiar Chopin BZacfc Keys Etude by roll-
ing an orange over the black keys! Of
course his left hand plays good orthodox
Chopin — but the result is amazing. Then,
he plays The Woodpecker Song — with
variations — in his famous "Shooting the
Keys" style.

That was one of the scenes I saw being
filmed on the vast Crystal Palace set that
covered almost one entire M-G-M sound
stage.

Keogh Gleason, one of the studio's ace
decorators, had a field day whipping up
this Stork Club of the 1870's. He went
rummaging into some of the studio storage
galleries that hadn't been touched in years,
and you've never seen so much plush

furniture, ornate drapes and bric-a-brac
in your life. And the pictures! They're
from another world. So are the Kodiak
bears (stuffed, thank heaven) that loom
up some eleven feet from each side of
the entrance hall.

Not only does Chico play a piano from
the stage of the Crystal Palace, but the
queen of the whole shebang is a soubrette
— a nice curvy blonde named June Mac-
Cloy. Some of you may remember her
dimpled charm in pictures with Buddy
Rogers and Maurice Chevalier in early
talkies. She's Lulubelle in Way Out West
—her first lead in several years.

June's Hollywood career, we might add,
was dropped for a sometimes more per-
manent career called Matrimony. Her
husband took her back East where the
curvaceous lady got herself a job in a
Broadway musical that ran a year. Of
late, she's been singing with dance bands
here, there and everywhere.

A couple of months ago, June persuaded
her husband that she should have another
crack at the film town. He grimaced and
shrugged his shoulders — but made her
promise to come back in six months if
nothing broke for her. A few weeks after
she landed, she got a good part in a Colum-
bia picture, Glamour for Sale. Before she
had finished with it, she was being paged
by M-G-M to rebuff the opportunistic
Groucho in Way Out West.

| The entire company spent a hilarious

two weeks in Sonora, that famous

central California location town where so

many of our western epics have been shot.

The Marxes had the time of their lives.

In the picture, Sonora becomes "Birch
City — a peaceful western community sit-
uated on the outskirts of a thriving ceme-
tery." At least that's what a signboard
tells Groucho, footsore and broke, when
he arrives.

To Sonora natives the movies and then-
people are old stuff. Not so to important
visiting tourists, who presented quite a
problem at times during the filming of
outdoor scenes.

Movie Masquerade

If you're a movie fan as well as a clever detective you should be able to unmask four
out of the five movie titles masqueraded in the phrases below. The phrases suggest
titles of recent movies — just the titles, remember, not the subject matter or plot of
the picture. For instance, "A village where bombs are manufactured" suggests the
movie title, "Boom Town," although the picture doesn't concern "booms" of that kind.
Look for the answers (if you weaken) on page 56.

1. Railroad ticket from Florida to Oregon.

2. A phonograph floating downstream during a flood

3. How a rose might address a more delicate relative

4. What gas does when it finds a leak in the pipe.

5. Why a certain ship always skirts the rocks.

There was the day Groucho was shoot-
ing a scene with June MacCloy and two
other lovelies. About twenty tourists —
and very nice people, too — were standing
on the sidelines, after having been warned
to be as quiet as mice. They agreed and
the scene began. Groucho, who has already
met Lulubelle, clasps her in his arms and
says, "Ah, my betrothed!" She gives him
a violent push. With a romantic sigh, he
explains to the other girls, "We met on the
stagecoach. And I fell in love with her —
madly— feverishly! Have either of you a
thermometer?"

There was an audible snicker from the
spectators and several indignant Holly-
wood heads were turned in their direction.
They shushed.

One of the other actresses says, in a
southern drawl, "If you-all wanna stay
healthy, Ah'd bettah keep shy of Lulu-
belle. She's Red Taggart's gal."

The scornful Groucho becomes indig-
nant. "Who's Red Taggart?" he booms.
"Where's Red Taggart?" And into the
scene strides Robert Barrat, who looms
above Groucho, to say, "I'm him, stranger!"

Groucho thinks fast. He says, "Well,
you should have been home. The Pot of
Gold just phoned you!"

It was too much for the tourists. There
were several audible giggles — enough for
the sound man to signal that the scene was
ruined. The visitors were expelled in short
order. But of course a new batch showed
up — that just had to have the courtesy
of the studio!

John Carroll, who romances Diana in
Way Out West, is having the time of his
life with the Marx Brothers and supplying
his full share of laughs. He did one won-
derful thing — which broke up all three
Marxes. John was having trouble with
his lines; couldn't get past one particular
line. Director Eddie Buzzell, perhaps
Hollywood's tiniest director, said: "What's
the matter with you, John?" Carroll
swirled around and strode toward Buz-
zell's chair. He drew himself up to his full
height of six foot three and a fraction,
pointed an accusing finger at his director
and screamed in a falsetto, "Because you
frighten me, that's why!" The Marx
Brothers all screamed like banshees.

■ The wily Marxes make very few pic-
tures— and those are eagerly awaited
by the vast Marx Brothers clique. There's
a very specialized group that thinks Harpo
is the ten funniest men in the world.
Others are equally charmed with Groucho
and Chico.

But all of the boys agree on one thing
— too many pictures spoil the box-office
possibilities of comedians in the movies.

For their three last shows, they have
gone on road tours covering half the
United States, just to count the laughs
from average audiences from Boise, Idaho,
to Kansas City, Missouri. Before a camera
was ground on Way Out West, the Marx
laughs had been tabulated by a vast army
of experts — so that in the screen version,
Harpo's actions wouldn't be ruined by
Groucho rolling his eyes and cigar.

On this latest barnstorming tour they
played 102 dates, so you can be sure that
every laugh is tested that many times for
comedy value.

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How To Select Your
Winter Sports Wear

This year winter sports fashions are extremely interesting and becoming. For a style
pre-view of some of the smartest cold weather togs turn to pages 32 and 33 in this issue
of HOLLYWOOD. There you will find the newest ideas, with prices and names of makers.
Each month, Candida, one of America's foremost style authorities, tells you the news of
the fashions in words and pictures. Look for this feature In each issue of

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Fun With Fontaine

[Continued from page 21]

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Joan Fontaine hasn't always been the gay,
amusing person she is today.

For all its gaiety and glamour and high
salaries and public adulation, movietown
has more than its share of unhappy people
— stars who did not receive that coveted
role, Cinderellas lost in the shuffle, has-
been's, would-be's, frustrated writers and
producers who run in circles while their
pictures run in cycles.

Unhappiest of them all, less than four
years ago, was Joan Fontaine.

A frail, frightened eighteen-year-old
newcomer to the Hollywoods, Joan falsely
was accused of being snooty, and was
charged with trying to cash in on sister
Olivia de Havilland's popularity. Com-
pletely misunderstood by every one from
producers to prop boys, she cried herself
to sleep seven nights out of the week,
even burst into tears over trivialities at
the studio.

Hollywood didn't make sense to Joan
Fontaine three years ago and Joan Fon-
taine didn't make sense to Hollywood.

A strictly reared, small town girl, she
couldn't understand the ways of show
people — the back slapping, the kidding,
the easy informality. Hollywood miscon-
strued her attitude for aloofness, called
her snooty when she insisted upon her
mother as a chaperon, made a point of
derisively calling her "Olivia de Havil-
land's movie-struck sister."

But instead of jumping off the Santa
Monica pier or fleeing to Broadway, as
Hollywood secretly expected she might
do, Joan Fontaine refused to call it quits.

Between minor roles in RKO and
Republic pictures and between big salty
tears which dampened her pillow at night,
Joan Fontaine, the small town girl, be-
came acclimated to Hollywood, learned
how to act both in front and away from
the camera.

It was as simple as that, because she was
a fairly good actress when movie talent
scouts first spotted her as Joan Burfield
in Henry Duffy productions on the local
stage, and because she had a delightful
sense of humor which finally revealed
itself after those first unhappy, misunder-
stood years.

"I changed my stage name from Burfield
to Fontaine because people frequently
mispronounced it Burpfield," the actress
laughed.

Hollywood, quick to give you the hot
foot one day and a testimonial silverware
set the next, took Joan Fontaine to its
heart while she portrayed a minor role in
The Women, loudly cheered when she
won the coveted role of the bewildered
second Mrs. Maxim de Winter opposite
Laurence Olivier in Rebecca, the picture
which elevated her to stardom. They
applauded her acting ability but most of
all they applauded her captivating sense
of humor.

At the moment, Joan Fontaine is tre-
mendously amused, and so is Hollywood,
over the antics of a Filipino houseboy
named Frank who has assumed the role
of a male Mrs. Danvers in her home. Frank

was the sole guardian of Brian Aherne's
bachelor quarters before he married Miss
Fontaine and now, like Mrs. Danvers, the
jealous housekeeper in Rebecca, he is
finding it difficult to be loyal to both. Any
other movie queen would remain silent,
or have Frank dismissed, but not Joan
Fontaine. She thinks it's terribly amusing,
which it is.

Joan recently took down the kitchen
curtains, which she didn't like, and re-
placed them with some fine new expensive
ones. When the first of the month came
around, and Brian received the bill, Joan
was not at home. He summoned Frank
and asked him about the new curtains.

"Did you order these?" he asked.

"Oh, no," replied Frank, confused and
apologetic. "It was Mrs. Aherne's idea.
We didn't really need new curtains but
she wanted them. We must pamper them,
you know."

Not long ago Joan celebrated her
twenty-second birthday and for the occa-
sion Frank baked a big white cake on
which he arranged twenty-one candles.

"But, Frank," said Joan, "I'm twenty-
two years old. The cake should have
twenty-two candles."

Frank raised one eyebrow superciliously
and said, disapprovingly,

"Madam, the Blue Book says you can
put only twenty-one candles on any birth-
day cake!"

"In fact," laughs Joan Fontaine, "Brian
was even afraid to tell Frank he was going
to be married. He put it off until the
last minute and then said, apologetically,
'Frank, er-ah-er, when I come back, er-
ah-er, I may have a wife'. All Frank
said was, 'Very good, sir', but Brian could
tell in his voice that he wasn't exactly
pleased."

| As bachelor girls, sisters Joan Fon-
taine and Olivia de Havilland con-
stantly chided each other about who would
be the first to marry. Engaged several
times, Joan finally set the date for her
marriage to Aherne. Cracked Olivia upon
hearing the news: "Don't tell me that
Joan's really on the level this time?"

But after the marriage Joan evened the
score. When someone, discussing films,
asked her if she had seen The Old Maid,
she replied, "Yes. Oh, Olivia, we're talk-
ing about you!"

While Miss Fontaine was working in
Rebecca at the David O. Selznick studio,
Olivia returned to the same lot for added
scenes in Gone With the Wind. In the
interim, Joan had moved into Olivia's
dressing room. Guided to another dress-
ing room, Olivia found it to be the worst
one on the lot — moth-eaten furniture
covered with cobwebs, broken mirrors,
cracked and peeling wallpaper and a big
sign, Home Sweet Home. Joan, of course,
was the moving spirit behind the stunt.

Hollywood, and Joan, got a big laugh
recently when she visited the small Cen-
tral California town of Saratoga where
she was raised. She visited the school
where she once was a pupil and the

teacher, whom she knew, introduced her
to a class of eight-year-olds. After the
introduction, and a short speech by Miss
Fontaine, the teacher smiled sweetly at
the children and asked:

"And, now children, tell me, who is
your favorite movie actress?"

Chorused the kids: "Minnie Mouse!"

Another amusing comment by Joan
Fontaine occurred when Olivia was going
places with a Hollywoodsman named Pat
di Cicco. Brian Aherne's middle name is
de Lacy. Joan's middle name is De
Beauvoir.

"You really should marry di Cicco,"
Joan told Olivia. "Just think — you could
name your son Patrick De Beauvoir de
Havilland de Lacy di Cicco."

| The other day Brian Aherne said he
would like a nice photograph of Joan
for his studio dressing room. Joan prom-
ised to give him one. Thumbing through
the Rebecca stills she selected the home-
liest one she could find of herself — "I
looked like something Boris Karloff had
dragged up the stairs."

She had the photograph mounted in an
expensive silver frame and sent it to
Brian's studio. Aherne, playing the game
straight, hung it up for all to see. When
Lillian, the studio maid, noticed it for
the first time she threw up her arms in
surprise.

"In Heaven's name, what's that?" she
said, pointing to the photograph.

"Why, that's my wife," replied Brian
Aherne in mock reproach.

All Lillian could say was, "Oh, Mr.
Aherne, really — "

Hollywoodites laughed for weeks over
Joan Fontaine's trouble with a hoop skirt
at her wedding to Aherne in tiny St.
John's chapel at Del Monte, California. On
the eve of the wedding, she became nerv-
ous over the width of the church aisle.
Her wedding dress was Elizabethan, with
a large hoop, and if the aisle were too

narrow she and Aherne would have had
difficulty walking down it together. Upon
checking, though, she found the aisle was
quite wide enough.

Said Joan Fontaine: "It was quite a
problem. For a moment I was afraid I
would be forced to choose between the
hoop and Brian Aherne."

But the funniest anecdote of the Joan
Fontaine-Brian Aherne nuptials was not
revealed at the time. It also concerned
the hoop skirt. When it first occurred to
her whether she, the hoop, and Aherne
all would fit in the aisle, she picked up the
telephone in her hotel room and asked
for a Mr. Russell, a Hollywood fashion-
adviser who had accompanied the wedding
party to Del Monte.

A man answered the telephone and she
said, quickly and excitedly:

"Oh, Mr. Russell, it may sound silly, but
I think you'd better come up to my room
right away and measure my hoop. It's
terribly important. I don't think it will
fit in that aisle."

The man at the other end of the line
gulped a couple of times and then said:

"Young lady, I'd be very happy to come
up and measure your hoop. But I'm not
Mr. Russell."

Embarrassed by a switchboard operator
who had given her the wrong number,
Joan learned later the man she had in-
vited up to her room to "measure my
hoop" was the slot-machine king of San
Francisco.

And then there was the time she was
forced to change her clothes in a telephone
booth for lack of a dressing room while
posing for fashion photographs at the
U.C.LA. campus. And the time doctors
were taking X-ray photographs of her
prior to an operation. A nurse warned her
to remain perfectly still. "Of course I'll lie
still," said Joan. "This is the biggest
close-up I've ever had."

Yes, Joan Fontaine leaves you laughing.

This giant dahlia, new this year, has been named in honor of Brenda Marshall
who looks impressed, and who wouldn't? You'll see her next in South of Sues

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Meet John Doe

[Continued from, page 28]

another dead game sport, is abiding by the
same terms and laying his literary effort
on the line for the exact sum of zero.

The joint sacrifice represented by the
refusal of the two head men to accept their
regular fees is somewhere around $500,000.
Tack this onto the cash outlay and John
Doe becomes a $2,000,000 picture, which
it certainly will appear to be on the screen.

"This is a new idea in picture-making,"
Capra declared. "If it works it will be
strictly wonderful, because all the money
we have laid out will be in the picture.
Twenty-five per cent of the value won't
be deducted in advance on account of
producer's wages and story rights."

"And supposing it doesn't work?" a
heckler inquired.

"If it doesn't work, Capra will be good
and broke," he admitted. "But I've still
got two hands and I can start all over
again. I've taken a lot out of pictures and
I'm not hesitating to put something back."

Some of the things Capra is putting into
John Doe besides his brains and his bank
roll are the services of Gary Cooper and
Barbara Stanwyck, both old favorites of
his who have clicked handsomely in high-
priced films; Edward Arnold, Walter
Brennan (the old Academy Award stand-
by), Jimmy Gleason, Warren Hymer and
175 other actors with speaking roles.

Miss Stanwyck is a sort of luck-piece in
the Capra career, having starred in five of
the little giant's productions, a record ap-
proached by no other Hollywood per-
former.

Barbara's private explanation of the
magnificent efforts her present director
always gets from his casts is that every-
body on the pay roll feels as if he's in the
deciding game of the World Series.

"He bears down on every pitch," she
asserts. "There's no slufung, no careless-
ness, no improvising. You know in the
first place that it's not by accident that
you got the job. Capra can get anybody
he wants in Hollywood and he studies a
long time before making decisions about
casting. The very fact that you've landed
on his pay roll is flattering, because you
know you're in fast company. Everybody
around you feels that way too.

"Frank is an actor's director who knows
both sides of the camera. When he's lining
up a shot he'll stroll around on the set in
front of the lens, picking up books, papers

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and props and getting the feel of them so
he can project himself into the scene first-
hand.

"In John Doe the acting is cut down to a
minimum because in choosing players
Capra has operated on a theory that he
calls 'sublimated type- casting.' This means
that Gary Cooper in real life could pass
for a baseball pitcher, and I could pass for
a rough-and-tumble newspaper dame,
which is all right with me and Gary."

There's no denying that Barbara, with a
pencil clenched between her teeth, a
smudge on her nose and a glint of fire in
her eye, looks like a distillation of all the
newspaper gals ever let loose to lacerate
the emotions of the reading public. And
Gary Cooper, palming a regulation horse-
hide ball in his long spatulate fingers,
looks like the pitcher every sandlot novice
in the land hopes to grow up to be.

The Cooper characterization is one that
will endear him forever to the kids of the
country and do him no harm with his adult
followers, male and female. He is dis-
covered on the threshold of big-league
recognition, with a scout for the world
champions sitting in the stands watching
his performance.

The game goes ten extra innings and
when the big-league ivory-hunter inter-
views his prospect after his grueling trial,
Gary has to confess his arm is dead. From
then until the final fadeout his chief am-
bition is to scrape together enough money
to get his bread-winning arm back in
shape, and it's a scramble full of detours
and heartaches.

Cooper looks like a ball-player that
Pegler and Lardner and Bolger and Bill
McGeehan would have taken to their
hearts, a lion on the playing field and on
the street a big unsophisticated bumpkin
with a specialized outlook on life, a chain-
store suit and a polka-dot tie. In short,
John Doe, a good fellow who got short-
changed on his luck.

| Before the camera Gary wears base-
ball flannels as though the standard
uniform had been designed for him. His
ccach in baseball etiquette and the art of
throwing was his pal, George Raft, an old
bush-league player himself, once an orna-
ment of the Hartford team of the Eastern
League. George swapped his baseball lore
for lessons in tennis, at which Gary is a
wizard.

Some of the nuttiest scenes call for John
Doe, equipped with baseball cap and glove,
to do some indoor pitching, with great
resultant wreckage of plate glass and ob-
jects of art. In these sequences his catcher
is Walter Brennan, another Cooper pal,
who in the John Doe script is called upon
to be a fellow-hobo of the star.

This bit of casting was so close to home
that it bordered on autobiography for both
players. Shortly after his arrival in Holly-
wood from Montana, Gary teamed with
Brennan and Slim Talbot, another Mon-
tanan, to hunt extra work in the studios.
Sometimes they found it but oftener they
didn't, with the result that one gray day
found them down to a bottle of milk and

some buns for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Some lines in the John Doe script were
altered to fit that low-water mark of the
job-hunting trio.

Today, some twelve years after the
milk-and-bun episode, Talbot and Bren-
nan and Cooper are together again. Talbot,
after abandoning Hollywood to its fate and
becoming an aviator with 2,400 hours' fly-
ing time and a Mexican colonelcy to his
credit, is back again on the old stamping
ground, now serving as Gary's stand-in.
And Walter, the top character actor of
Hollywood if the Academy of Motion
Picture Arts and Sciences knows how to
pick champions, rounds out the trio.

■ During the airplane sequences photo-
graphed at the Grand Central Air

Terminal, Talbot and Cooper proved
themselves weather prophets of big-
league calibre. Slim relied on his flying
observation and Gary simply wet an index
finger and stuck it up in the breeze, but
they out-calculated the experts never-
theless.

One cloudy morning the official weather
report prophesied clear weather before
sundown. The John Doe cameraman
(cameramen have to be weather sharps,
too) guessed the sun would pop out at
12: 30. The field meteorologist, relying on
instruments and official reports, put the
hour at 12. Cooper and Talbot, using
nothing but black magic, guessed the
clouds would disappear at 1:05. They
missed by only five seconds.

| In addition to his qualifications as an
actor and weather prophet, Gary
demonstrated also that he is a super-sales-
man of the simple life. On every picture
he manages to infect some fellow-player
with the ranch-owning bug. Five years
ago his prospect was J. Farrell MacDonald,
who forthwith went shopping in the Rogue
River country of Oregon and picked him-
self a home on the range. Of the John Doe
players, six have succumbed to Gary's
sales talk, Walter Brennan being the
hottest immediate prospect. The instant
the picture is previewed he will set off
for the Rogue River with a checkbook in
his pocket.

Barbara Stanwyck, an old hoss-breeder
herself, needs no further cajoling to induce
her to take up the simple life on the
rancho.

■ For Barbara, John Doe is a reunion
picture not only with Gary but with

many another old colleague of the movie
campaigns. Rod LaRocque, making a
genuine comeback as a deputy villain on
the staff of Chief Menace Edward Arnold,
made his last movie appearance as a star

in a picture called The Locked Door in
which Barbara, then a young striver,
played a comparatively light part.

Rod's return to the movie wars has no
economic motive whatever. Still rich and
youthful, he got tired of traveling and of
devising fresh ways to amuse himself. So,
like Richard Barthelmess, he got out the
old make-up kit and went back to the
thing that gave him the most satisfaction.

Since the heyday of D. W. Griffith, he
couldn't have enlisted under the banner of
a better-equipped movie showman than
Capra, master at once of mass movement
and infinite detail.

B No better example of the Capra
method could be found than a pair of
unrelated sequences centering around
John Doe. The first is a political mass
meeting. The scene is Wrigley Field, Los
Angeles, converted for one week only into
an amphitheater.

Banners proclaim the presence of dele-
gates from every state in the union and
from such towns as Moberly, Waukesha,
Jasper, Tulare and Chester. Sunlight arcs
flood the field and five assistant directors
herd their battalions of actors into posi-
tion.

"Everybody with a ticket from 300 to
700 move over from Oklahoma to Mis-
souri!" "All you Maine people, raise your
umbrellas for one rehearsal."

Cooper and Arnold use the home team
dugout for an emergency dressing room to
readjust their make-up. From sundown
until midnight Capra's deputies marshal
their masses of people into position. Then,
at a signal from the boss, the whole mob
breaks out in a well-drilled riot, realistic
but carefully rehearsed, that lasts until
dawn. That's the Capra of the broad brush
at work.

The next scene is the interior of an
office. Gary, carefully dressed in new
clothes, enters, sits down in a chair and
throws his legs up on a desk, feet pointed
toward the camera.

"Cut!" Director Capra orders in a con-
versational tone.

The camera stops, the lights fade and
there is a hurried consultation around the
director's chair. A property man bustles
forward with a minute label and affixes
it to the sole of one of Gary's shoes.

"The shoes are supposed to be brand
new," Capra explains. "The price tag helps
to get the idea over quicker."

It's a common assumption around Holly-
wood that Capra is gambling a million and
a half on John Doe. People who fall for
that idea don't realize that Capra never
marked a price tag wrong yet. John Doe
is marked "Two Million Dollars" and from
a seat in the grandstand it looks like a
good buy at the price.

Robert Paige made $1,000 during a five-minute pause on the D. O. A. set. Paul Lukas and Joe
Calieia were rehearsing a scene and during the wait Paige sat down at a piano and began to drum
out a theme.

Producer Jack Moss, sitting nearby, asked the name of the tune.

"Just a little thing I put together myself," Paige replied, "with the help of a couple of other
guys."

Moss called over Director Stuart Heisler, who in turn summoned Louis Lipstone, Paramount music
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studio got the use of Without You for $1,000. The proceeds will be split three ways among Paige, who
composed the tune; Glenn Alexander, the lyricist, and Ormond Ruthven, M-G-M sound technician,
who did the arrangement and some revising.

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Zorro Comes Back

[Continued from page 31]

Ty got excited and started using his rapier
for a hair- clipper. Ty, himself, was
knocked flat by a blow to the shoulder
which luckily failed to cut through to the
skin but which nevertheless was severe
enough to require medical treatment.

After this scene was finally shot Rath-
bone, feeling that he needed more prac-
tice, walked over to where a group of us
extras were standing and pointed his
finger right at me. Well, having seen Ty
get his bumps, I was in no mood for play-
ing guinea pig and I tried to duck but some
smart-aleck gave me a shove and I found
myself with a long, thin, needle-like
rapier in my untrustworthy right hand,
and Rathbone was making his pig-sticker
sing as he swished it through the air.
Fred Cavens, who had been coaching the
fighting scenes, came over and told me
how to stand. He put buttons on the ends
of our blades and then told Rathbone to
go to it. Which he did! My gosh, that
blade of his sung a mighty bloodthirsty
song around my big ears and once the
button of the foil hit me a good one on
my Adam's apple, and I thought I was a
goner. Rathbone kept on "pinking" me
here and there, and if you've never been
pinked by a rapier you ain't never ex-
perienced anything yet.

Of course I didn't stand there dumblike.
What I mean is, I hauled off and slapped
that over-sized razor blade right back at
Rathbone, but he was too clever and knew
too much about the art and so I didn't
get anywhere. After all, why should I?
All Rathbone wanted was a little practice.

Unfortunately during the course of the
practice my opponent's button came off
and doggoned if he didn't drive the ex-
posed point right through my shirt sleeve,
which wouldn't have been so tough only
he took about five inches of skin along
with it. Neither of us noticed the miss-
ing button — the one supposed to be on the
end of his rapier, mind you— until my
hand began to get sticky and, Lady, you
should have heard the commotion and the
shrieking and the "Ah's" and "Oh's" when
all of us discovered it was blood. The
director came a-running, the studio
doctor came tearing, and a couple of those
flirtatious senoritas flopped smack on
their pretty brocades in a dead faint.

Well, luckily for me, the five-inch cut
wasn't as deep as it looked and the studio
sawbones taped it up without much
trouble. The nice part of it was I got the
rest of the day off with pay and of course
to enjoy it I took along one of those gay
senoritas — just in case I needed further
medical attention. I don't know what she
could have done if I had required aid and
assistance but in any event, said I, it was
a smart idea to have her close by. Or am
I wrong? It cost me a day's pay (you
should have seen that gal eat!) to keep
her around, but it was well worth it.

H I went back to work the next day.

My arm was pretty stiff, but Director

Mamoulian, as further payment for my

wounds, let me do a lot of loafing. He

got me dressed up as an Indian and about
all I did was to grunt now and then. But
easy as that was, Old Man Bad Luck was
sniffing at my heels. Tyrone and I were
sitting on a stone just off the set (this is
still at Agoura, California) while Director
Mamoulian was taking several shots of
other members of the cast.

We must have sat there half an hour,
talking about this and that and so on and
so on, when all of a sudden I looked down
and right there at our feet was a rattler
crawling lazily from under the stone we
were sitting on. A long, mean-looking
serpent he was, too, and I nudged Ty and
said something about "don't look, now,
but I think we ought to have some snake-
bite medicine!"

Ty wouldn't take my word for it, how-
ever, and he gave his tootsies a look and
I'll swear to goodness, that sterling actor
let out a whoop that frightened me more
than it did the rattler. Up until then I
was so scared I couldn't move, but that
yell of his started me going out of there
like somebody'd given us a double hotfoot.
Being handicapped by a bum arm, I was
a mite clumsy about making my get-
away. Halfway down the little incline I
stumbled and skidded on my puss for
about six feet. And skidding on your
puss across six feet of sand and gravel
with a rattler maybe right behind you
may be a thrilling experience, but it sure
doesn't help the temper. They do say
when I got upright, and blew the sand
out of my eyes, ears, nose and throat,
I chose enough choice words out of my
limited vocabulary to make a dock-
walloper cry with envy. Oh, yes, I got
myself a pint of snake-bite remedy just in
case the rattler had left a fang in me
without my knowing it. A prop boy
killed the reptile a few moments later,
and an Indian skinned it and gave it to
Ty the last day on location for a keepsake.

■ During my four-day "trick" with The
Mark of Zorro outfit, I got very pally
with "Red," a dog of apparently very
doubtful ancestry. For six years Red has
been making twenty bucks a day running
alongside automobiles and buggies and
whoofing at the drivers. (I'd do that for
twenty bucks, myself.) One year he
worked in twenty-seven movies and
earned $840 which is more dough than a
lot of us extras make. Red has turned
in some mighty fine performances, but
the best one to date occurred while I was
working in the picture. For four solid
days he barked at Tyrone Power, Linda
Darnell and Basil Rathbone. By the time
he had finished this assignment he was
well-nigh barked out and his owner,
L. F. Comport, had to take him back home
so he (Red) could rest up for a couple of
weeks. Red's greatest worry, his owner
told me, was that he (Red) might contract
laryngitis after one of his barking roles.
I got chinning with Linda Darnell in
between "takes" and she told me that the
studio had spent $7,100 to transform her
into a Spanish senorita. The studio had

tested her, she said, thirty-eight times for
coiffure, make-up, and wardrobe, at a
cost of around $100 each time the camera
rolled. Her hair was turned a satiny
black and her eyebrows pencilled black.
Her hair had been arranged twenty -two
different ways alone before the director
was satisfied. Spanish lessons, to teach
her correct pronunciation, totaled $400.
The budget for her Spanish dances with
Tyrone Power amounted to $1,200. Vocal
lessons ran $1,700.

■ Linda is quite a girl, if I'm any judge
which probably I'm not. Anyway,
she certainly makes no pretense at being
sophisticated when it comes to romance.
She told me she's not going to kiss any
boy friends until she's engaged and
furthermore she doesn't care if people do
joke her about being old-fashioned. That's
why, maybe, she's so fluttery when she
gets ready to go into a romantic scene
opposite some handsome movie star. I
watched her and Ty go through a love
scene, and it really was something to
watch. Ty took her in his arms and
placed his cheek against hers. Right
about then, Director Mamoulian called a
halt and went into a huddle with Arthur
Miller, the cameraman. They purposely
stalled around for several minutes and
everyone, the writer included, wondered
what the trouble was about. I learned
later from the director that the reason
for the delay was to give Linda a chance
to get a deep blush off her cheeks. Blushes
don't look like blushes on film. They
make a heroine's face seem as though it
were slightly dirty. But, boy, Linda sure
does look mighty, mighty purty when her
cheeks begin to flame up.

Talking about Linda the way I am, I
might as well add something more about
her. Twentieth Century-Fox has al-
ready spent $10,000,000 this year on her.
And to think that no more than eighteen
months ago she was a Dallas high school
girl who measured finances by her two-
bucks-a-week allowance!

Linda started off the year with Star
Dust, a million-dollar production. Another
high -budgeted picture she's been in is
Brigham Young. Chad Hanna, Brooklyn
Bridge, and Song of the Islands (the last
one to start in late November) are on her
future schedule.

By the way, I'll bet you don't know
how the folks pronounced Los Angeles
'way back in 1820. Well, just to keep
informed in case you get on Informa-
tion, Please, sometime, they pronounced
it "El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina
de Los Angeles." Ain't that sum'pin?
The chamber of commerce boys of today
would have quite a chore for themselves
if they tried to put over a town with a
name like that.

| I can't leave this story without a word
about George Regas, who after twenty
years of regrets, got himself an acting job
in a Zorro picture.

The villain of some 800 movies arrived
first in Hollywood back in 1920 from the
Greek stage when Douglas Fairbanks
offered him the role of Sergeant Gonzales

in The Mark of Zorro. Mary Pickford
put in a bid for him at the same time
in Love Light. Since she was the most
famous star of the day and Doug was a
rank newcomer, Regas took her offer.

The Mark of Zorro, of course, far out-
shone Love Light and still stands as one
of the greatest box-office successes of all
time.

"I've been haunted for twenty years,"
Regas told me, "by the thought that if
I had played in The Mark of Zorro
it might have made a star of me. So
when I heard that Twentieth Century -
Fox was going to film a Zorro tale, I saw
Rouben Mamoulian, the director, in a
hurry. Well, believe it or not, after my
two decades of regrets I got the same role
that Doug had offered me! My conscience
feels better now."

■ I wish I could end this masterpiece
on a happy note, but I can't. You

see, while I was working in the picture
I learned that there were a few se-
quences in the script having to do with
game cocks. I also learned that the prop
department was hard put to acquire these
birds because cock fighting is barred in
California. When I told the boys that I
knew of a Mexican friend of mine who
had a couple, they liked to have swooned
from joy. I was to get twenty-five bucks
if I could induce my Mex friend to bring
'em out to the studio. He was to get fifty
bucks for the use of 'em. Well, that
was real folding money, so I set out and I
see my Mex friend, and together we
tucked the birds into an auto and headed
for the studio.

On the way, though, we were stopped
by a traffic cop for a traffic infraction,
and my heart stopped as the copper
peeked in back and saw the crate with
the two game cocks in it. He gave 'em
a long look, then gave us a long look
and then started pulling out his book of
tickets. I thought every second he was
going to take those birds and us to the
hoosegow. I lost five years of my life
while I sat there and worried. As it was,
it cost us five bucks apiece on a traffic
charge — which we paid after delivering
the birds to the studio.

It was much ado about nothing so far as
the studio was concerned. Director Ma-
moulian never used the birds in the pic-
ture. We got our pay, though, which was
enough to pay the fine and enough left
over for me to take my Spanish senorita to
a dine-and-dance jernt for the evening.
But I'm agin this business of trying to
break the law. It somehow wears you
out until you haven't got any stoop,
squint, or squat left in your poor worried
body.

Woe is me!

■ P. S. I don't know what I'll do next
month. Maybe take a vacation. I'm

getting kinda fed up on my art these days
for no reason at all except that it seems
I'm always the fall guy when it comes to
trouble. I have a hunch, though, I'll be
extra-ing as usual. It's getting on Christ-
mas time and shy of jack to buy a few
presents for a few of my gal friends.

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Confessions of a Hollywood Night Clerk

[Continued from page 16]

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A com Is a phiK of dead
cells (A} whose base presses
on sensitive nerves (B).

Funny thing about those girls. When
both were in the big money — one was a
spectacular leading lady and the other
one of the screen's foremost comediennes
— they hated each other. But on the
downward path, they became the best of
friends. They'd sit over a bottle of cheap
gin, and get drunk as owls, cursing Holly-
wood and its lack of gratitude — never re-
alizing that there might be parts for them
if they'd ever sober up! They were still
good actresses.

The comedienne had a stock contract at
the studio where she once starred. She
was getting $65 a week where she used to
get $3000! But one day she showed up at
the studio in her cups and started abusing
the director. Naturally he ordered her
off the set and her contract was canceled.
She went on a terrific binge. Wouldn't
even answer the occasional calls I'd try
to put through. I was worried about her.

One night when I came in, the day
clerk told me that the once great star
hadn't stirred out of her room all day —
not even to order more gin! Call it
psychic, if you want, but I was sure some-
thing had happened to her. Along about
nine, I buzzed her room. No answer. At
ten, I convinced the manager that we
should investigate. We knocked on her
door and then entered with a passkey.

There was the former star, lying
grotesquely on her bed. She was quite
dead. The apartment was littered with
empty bottles. There was no food in the
icebox — evidently she hadn't eaten in
days — and thirty-seven cents in change
on the bureau. What an end for a girl
who had made more than half a million
in her time!

Acute alcoholism, the coroner said.

The other girl went into hysterics when
the news was broken to her. She was
shocked into staying sober for all of a
week. Then — back to the bottle.

■ Of course there are many happier
things to tell about. There's nothing
that makes me happier than to watch the
progress of some up - and - coming
youngster. Take Olivia de Havilland, for
instance. I always get that "I knew her
when" feeling when I see her in the films.
And I always remember the day that she
registered at a little hotel on Highland
Avenue — one of the freshest, prettiest
kids I've ever seen in my life.

"Olivia de Havilland, Saratoga, Cali-
fornia." She had come down to under-
study a role in A Midsummer Night's
Dream, which the great Max Reinhardt
was directing for production at the
Hollywood Bowl, only a few blocks up
the street.

Olivia made a great hit with everybody
in the hotel. She was about eighteen at
the time — and so serious about her career.
She used to practice voice exercises in
her room whenever she wasn't rehears-
ing. She was understudying Gloria
Stuart, and Gloria wasn't always present
at rehearsals, being on a picture. One
day Olivia brought a bvatty looking kid
and his mother home for dinner. The kid
was Mickey Rooney, and he was playing
"Puck." Dr. Reinhardt said then that
Mickey was the greatest natural actor he'd
ever run across. Guess he knows his
actors, huh?

All of us at the hotel were rooting for
Olivia. We felt very protective about
her — she was such a baby. No one wished
that Gloria Stuart would break a leg, or
anything — but we all wanted Livvy to
get a chance at that part. And sure
enough, two days before the opening,
Miss Stuart had to bow out. She had to
leave at once for location scenes on an
important picture — and Olivia was set!

A lot of us chipped in and sent her a
bouquet of flowers. Who? Well, there
was Don Blanding, the "Vagabond Poet,"

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author of The Sisters and May Flavin.
They were all fellow guests at the hotel.
Olivia was so touched with her flowers,
she almost cried. She was all alone, that
opening night — her mother couldn't come
down from Saratoga because her younger
sister, Joanie, was sick. ( Joanie, of course,
is now the impressive Miss Fontaine, star
of Rebecca.)

Olivia is another Hollywood youngster
who refuses to let herself become spoiled
by fame. I had a bit in one of her pictures
last year. Some girls might have preferred
to forget the night clerk of her first little
Hollywood hotel — but not Olivia. She
greeted me happily and asked me to have
lunch with her in the Warner Green
Room, which I'd never been in before —
not being a big shot like Olivia de Havil-
land!

■ I worked for a short time at one of
Hollywood's more flossy apartment
houses on Franklin Avenue, while the
regular night clerk was taking his vaca-
tion. There were a lot of swell people
there, too. One of the nicest couples were
the Johnny Beals. Of course everyone
knows what a swell actor he is — but his
wife (Helen Craig, she is professionally)
is pretty swell herself. Some day I hope
Mrs. Beal gets a real crack at the movies.
She's not a great beauty in the conven-
tional sense, but there's something chal-
lenging about her personality that should
be brought to the screen.

Golly, I talk like an agent!

Lola Lane lived there, too. And there's
one girl who deserves the title of "good
egg." She'd give you the shirt off her back
if you needed it. And there was a little
girl, recently out from New York, named
Florence Rice. She had a tiny apartment
at first, but her dad, the famous sports
writer, Grantland Rice, came out to visit
her and they got a larger apartment. I
liked Miss Rice. She's unaffected and
sweet. And her old man is terrific. What
a personality! But most newspapermen
are. real people, I've found.

| Speaking of news, the nicest in a
coon's age is Marjorie Rambeau get-
ting the Tug Boat Annie part at Warners.
I couldn't be happier about it. I only hope
they don't make comparisons between her
and Marie Dressier. Miss Rambeau is a
great artist and shouldn't be compared
with anyone. She had her lean days, too, in
medium-priced Hollywood apartment
houses, which can be mighty discouraging
if you're without work, sitting around
waiting for the phone to ring.

Yep, I've seen 'em come and I've seen
'em go. Some of them go up. Some go
down. Most of them swell people. And
I'm still the little man who takes their
calls when they're not in, and roots for
them to make good.

You never can tell in the movie busi-
ness. Next week some smart director
might decide that I'm the Oomph Boy of
all time, and I can join Sheridan and de
Havilland in the big brackets. In the
meantime, I'll go on — plugging in the
switchboard and plugging for the kids!

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ACROSS

1. A star of Lucky Partners.

6. One of Saps at Sea.

11. / Take This - — .

12. Miss Andre's first name.

13. Faces West.

15. Dog in Thin Man series.

16. Time for Comedy.

17. Popeye is one.

18. The nurse in Flowing Gold (poss.).

20. Chris in Four Sons.

21. Linda Darnell has brown ones.

23. The - -I Married.

24. Colored character actor.

25. Mr. Scott's initials.

26. Hemingway in The Ghost Comes Home.

28. and the Woman.

29. First name of Mr. Alberni.

30. Actor wed to Gladys George.

31. Chinese detective portrayed by Tcler (poss.).

33. You Fool Your Wife.

34. Mr. Pangborn's initials.

36. The Mummy's .

37. He Stayed - - Breakfast.

38. The of Puddlcstone.

40. Crowded Night.

41. Cowboy stars wear them.

43. Bill Anders in Gold Rush Maisie.

44. Initials of Mr. Karns.

45. What Groucho's mustache is made with.

46. Miss Barnes in Boom Town.

48. Gary Cooper's birthplace (abbr.).

49. The — — Behind the Scar.

50. Frog in Ride, Tenderfoot, Ride.
51. Mule Team.

DOWN

1. One who works in cutting room of film studio.

2. He portrays Mr. Moto.

3. Gail in Women in War.

4. Mr. Dillon in Untamed.

5. Mr. Hamilton's initials.

6. Doc. Richards in Brigham Young.

7. Motion picture studio and its adjoining
territory (pi.).

8. First name of Miss Claire, stage and screen
actress.

9. John Payne's birthplace (abbr.).
Iff. A star of Strike Up the Band.

14. So-called movie czar.

15. Cribbs in The Villain Still Pursued Her.

16. Pinocchio's grew and grew.

19. Bruce Cabot's former wife.

20. Mrs. Simpson in Dance, Girl, Dance.

22. Modern movie theaters are wired for this.

24. His last name is Blue.

27. Birthplace of Fredric March (abbr.).

28. Against the Sky.

29. FHy in Girls of the Road.

30. Particular character in a screenplay.

31. Body of dancers and singers in a musical.

32. Henry Fonda's nickname.

33. Walter Boggs in The Sea Hawk.

34. Blonde and 21.

35. Sing, Dance, Hot.

37. Little Mothers.

39. Remember Mary ?

41. Delicacy for 15 Across.

42. Charlie Goodrich in Rhythm, on the River.
45. Polly Ann Young's birthplace (abbr.).

47. Dog in Girl From God's Country.

48. Margaret Irving's initials.

49. Measure of film (abbr.).

(Solution on page 62)

Holly wood's Good Neighbors

[Continued from page 27]

and sweat shirt. This little situation may
sound to you like the beginning of an
Irene Dunne-Cary Grant comedy. But
somehow the dialogue didn't have the real
professional sparkle and the costumes
were certainly all out of key. It all ended
happily, of course, or none of them would
have told about it. But it was a strain — a
definite strain — for a time!

There was a slight strain last spring, too,
between Dick Cromwell and Humphrey
Bogart. Dick lives just above Bogart on
a hill above Hollywood. Bogart is an
enthusiastic gardener and Dick owns a
Scottie dog. Begin to catch on? Well,
they didn't. Not until Humphrey over-
heard Dick recounting, with innocent
pride, that his dog had been doing the
cutest thing! "He keeps on bringing home
onions!" Dick crowed. "Can't imagine
where he finds 'em. But he comes home
with his snout all covered with dirt and
puts a big onion on the step — proud as
Punch. Clever, eh?"

Humphrey bellowed. When Humphrey
bellows, welkins ring, women faint and
the little birds are silent in the trees just
as they are after an earthquake. "My lily
bulbs!" Bogart was shouting. "That's
where they've been going! My beautiful,
prize lily bulbs. And this — this — oaf — calls
them onions!" And it was right after that
that a car belonging to a guest of Cromwell
broke loose and rolled down the hill to
jump a fence and come to rest on a Bogart
rose bush. You can see that theirs is an
enduring friendship and that there must
be something about the climate when I tell
you that the two are still on speaking
terms. It's wonderful, that's what it is!

H I know Cesar Romero doesn't seem
the type — but he went rural, too, only
a short time ago. Bought a house, sur-
rounded with a suitable number of acres
near where the Fred MacMurrays and the
Gary Coopers maintain their practically
feudal estates. I don't know whether any
of these people are equipped, as yet, with
moats. But they should be. Anyhow,
Cesar made quite a to-do about moving
in and was impelled a number of times
during the process to rush to one neighbor
or another to use that anachronistic con-
venience, the telephone. At last he was
ensconced, spending his first night amid
his own trees and mocking birds and
crickets. At two-thirty the MacMurray
phone rang and a hoarse voice, barely
recognizable as Romero's croaked, "Say!
There's something the matter with this
place. It's haunted. It's got Karloffs and
things making whooooo noises."

MacMurray said in a low voice, "Oh,
that. You'll just have to get used to that.
They're always here. . . ."

"Wh-what are they?" quavered Cesar.

There was a pause and then Fred whis-
pered, "Owls!" and hung up the phone.
They were, too. The little fluffy ones that
flit from tree to tree and which un-
doubtedly make rattling and whooo noises.
Somehow I don't think that Cesar will
care for the country very long.

H But there are things, Mr. Romero,
which might be worse than whoooo
noises. Guy Kibbee, house - hunting,
found a dwelling in Beverly Hills which
seemed to be just the ticket. As he poised
a pen over that row of dots, a thought
struck him. "Crescent Drive?" he said,
wrinkling his brow. "Now, what is it I
know about Crescent Drive?" While the
real estate agent jittered, it all came to
Guy. "Jackie Cooper!" he cried. "And
his band! They practice three nights a
week, don't they? How far away from
this house is the Cooper house? Answer
me that!" Assured that it was at least
five blocks from the Cooper cacophonies,
Guy finally signed the paper and moved
into the house. "It's all right," he admits,
"as long as the wind is in the right direc-
tion. And of course, even if the wind is
wrong, Jackie's mother is nice about mak-
ing the boys stop at ten o'clock. I believe
she uses root beer for the purpose. Still — "

! Sir Cedric Hardwicke wasn't quite so
cautious. He blundered into the area
where it doesn't matter how the wind is
if Jackie and his boys are really in the
mood. But he says he really enjoys hear-
ing I'll Never Smile Again when it's played
with such heartfelt gusto!! A doughty
gentleman.

As a matter of fact, the musical tend-
encies of a lot of our better actors would
make a cautious person want to investi-
gate the direction of prevailing winds be-
fore buying property on the outskirts of
Hollywood. Of course it's all right if all
the neighbors are given to making
melodious sounds. Joan Crawford invites
her neighbors, Amelita Galli-Curci, Irene
Hervey and Allan Jones, in for what she
calls "an old-fashioned community sing"
and the four of them have at it at the
tops of their not-inconsiderable lungs.
And no one to stifle them with root beer
at ten o'clock, either. Wonder how it is in
that vicinity when the wind is wrong. . . .?

It might be embarrassing — like the thing
that happened to Wallace Berry when he
leaned from a window to hoot at the man
who was singing lustily in a bathtub in a
near by house. Wally found out that his
hoot-ee was none other than Tito Schipa,
and that lots of people pay lots of money
to hear him sing. Oh, dear!

There was Director Woody van Dyke,
too, who awoke in the small hours to hear
someone singing the prologue from
Pagliacci, a plaintive number which he de-
tests with a fanatic intensity — in his own
house! Saying a great many naughty
words, Van Dyke arose and prowled from
room to room, trying to find a radio which
had been left on, mentioning what he
would do to the so-and-so who was re-
sponsible for this outrage. On his sixth
trip through the living room he thought it
was coming nearer — and sure enough, out
of some shadows came Nelson Eddy, in
person, trilling away, and full of glee at
his own prank. He explained that he had
felt like singing Pagliacci and had simply
clambered through an open window on

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the first floor to give his friend a treat —
knowing full well how Woody felt about
that particular number.

Everybody thought it was awfully funny
but I dunno. Maybe I'm just an old
scaredy-cat but I'd hate to climb through
a window of Van Dyke's house, with all
those big game guns stacked around in
convenient closets, and Woody so quick
on the trigger with things like charging
rhinoceroses and all. . . .

■ Jeanette MacDonald and Gene Ray-
mond are such considerate neighbors
that they built a little sound-proof cottage
on their place where they shut themselves
in when they feel the urge to be vocal.
But in the Valley below their hilltop home
is the riding academy belonging to Bob
Young and Allan Jones. And people play
musical chairs down there — on horseback.
I don't know whether the horses are a
trifle deaf or what. But the music is
played on Victrolas and amplified through
loud speakers so that when the wind is
right, the very rafters at the Raymond
house quiver. Jeanette has worked out
a mild compromise with Bob and Allan.
She has erected a flagpole and when it
gets too awful she runs up a little white
flag. The music doesn't stop. They don't

go that far. But they change the record.
And that, Jeanette avers, is something!

But with all this friendly co-operation
situations are bound to arise which are —
er — delicate. Like the time when Fred
Astaire's large dog chewed industriously
on the ears of a small dog over at Charlie
Chaplin's. Perhaps it wouldn't have been
quite so bad if it hadn't developed that
the damaged pooch — the little one — be-
longed to Paulette Goddard. It was, to
put it mildly, all very awkward! Good-
ness.

Surprising things keep on happening in
these neighborhoods, too. The Richard
Carlsons were entertaining at dinner one
evening when people began to notice a
swarm of pretty girls and good-looking
young men stealing in through doors and
windows, tip-toeing here and there, fingers
to lips, peering under furniture and into
closets and behind doors. Guests are al-
most certain to notice a phenomenon like
that, you know, and can hardly help show-
ing it, however good their manners are.
It turned out that the Lane sisters, who
live next door, were having a party too
and that there was a treasure hunt afoot.
When Hollywood has a treasure hunt,
nothing — nothing and no place — is safe
from invasion. The Carlsons' guests sat

The fabulous, fat and funny Alfred Hitchcock, brilliant director of Foreign Cor-
respondent, after the film's formal opening greets Frances Dee and Joel McCrea
who plays the role of an American newspaperman involved in wartime plotting

quietly and no one said anything all
through the fish course and presently all
the young things stole away again. But
it was a rather eerie experience.

| There is a pretty spirit of give and
take among most of the people who
live near one another. The Ray Millands,
and the George Murphys share a projec-
tion room, a projection machine and a
couple of movie cameras — so that one
family is always trotting to the other's
house bearing large cans of film or
staggering under some sort of parapher-
nalia. The Bob Montgomerys live just a
hop-skip away, too, and the Murphys fre-
quently borrow their butler for special
occasions. And that entire district, which
includes a lot of "important names" makes
a practice of exchanging children's nurses
on special occasions when engagements
are pressing. Once when the Montgomery
children had chicken pox. . . . D'you
know, I've never figured out quite accu-
rately just what did happen that time!
There was a quarantine and Bob had to
sleep around at the neighbors' and every-
one was afraid his own children would
catch it and the nursemaids got hopelessly
mixed up and I'm not sure that they ever,
ever did all get settled down the way they
were in the first place!

The neighbors make lots of cozy little
deals. The J. Walter Rubens (she's Vir-
ginia Bruce) grow beans and grapes and
radishes which they trade with the next-
door Jack Conways for melons, corn and

Joan Brooks does a hand-stand on the
lawn at Warner Brothers and makes it
look easy. She is featured in High Sierra

squashes. When the Rubens sold their
horses, the Conways bought some, so they

took the Rubens' alfalfa crop. Cute, eh?

H Ida Lupino lives on one of the highest
hills — and husband Louis Hayward
has bought her one of those super-super
sets of field glasses. She keeps careful
track of Nigel Bruce — a mile or so away —
and when she sees him picking beans in
his garden she knows it's time to send him
a couple of egg plants or something from
hers. She assures me that Nigel has a
way with beans, and that there aren't any
others in California to match them. She
can also peek at her leisure at Ginger
Rogers and Shirley Temple and Joan
Crawford, basking in their gardens. She
doesn't know Joan and for quite a time
she was curious as anything about the
house where so many interesting people
seemed to congregate. Now that she's
found out she doesn't know quite what to
do next. You can't just write a note to
someone and say, "I've been peeking at
you through my spyglass and I want to
meet you!" Or can you?

Maybe she could think of something to
borrow. That's always good. George Raft
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the same corridor — for six months before
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The Rebel Returns

[Continued from page 25]

convinced this custodian of the good,
the true and the beautiful that all that
stands in the way of a great performance
on the part of Katharine Hepburn is an
opportunity to play Katharine Hepburn."
All her twenty-nine years Katharine
Hepburn has been doing that very thing
with curious results. She lives without
fear or restraint. Almost a year ago she
heard a burglar stirring about in her New
York apartment. With typical Hepburn
nerve, she jumped out of bed, shrieked:
"What the hell is coming off down there?"
and routed the intruder.

H In Hollywood she is currently leading
a most unspectacular life, laying it
on heavy in sports. She hasn't pranced
into Ciro's this stop-over. Few gossip
columnists spot her anywhere. She drives
by night and with wondrous stealth. She
calls it "good taste."

Not all that admiring stage crew men-
tioned earlier draws M-G-M money. Some
are paid by Miss H., herself, because she
likes them around when she's working.
A carpenter, an electrician and a property
man are veterans of the stage production
of Philadelphia Story. Miss Hepburn,
besides playing Tracy Lord in the play and
movie, owns a good chunk of the produc-
tion, which she'll take on tour this winter.

Just how long the Hepburn truce with
Hollywood will last is a moot point.
In yesteryear she shattered many a lance
tilting against directors, writers and even
players. Never a town to turn the other
cheek, Hollywood struck back and the
writers, especially, really went to town.
They turned out dozens of vitriolic pieces
such as one cute little message entitled:
"DON'T BLAME HEPBURN ON HOLLY-
WOOD," in which it was hinted that Hep-
burn was an idol-smasher long before she
hit the gelatin Mecca.

This trip out Miss H. is as docile as a
Salvation Army lassie. None of the old
temperament business! She'll see almost
any writer who isn't on her black list.

While Hollywood blinks in surprise, the
one and only Katie socks golf balls over
the San Fernando Valley and holds her
peace. Time was when she made a fasci-
nating Don Quixote, colliding violently
with movie traditions, cliches and habits
that annoyed her. Movies, she used to
feel, were "one of our greatest mediums
of education, but only when they depict
situations in which we are all involved."

Maybe she was thinking of the situation
we glimpsed on the set when she escorted
an undesirable suitor (in the picture, of
course) to his car, and, with a venomous
stare, smashed one of his clubs across her
knee. The old rebel spirit came through
fine in that scene— maybe it is still there.

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I WAS A CHEATING WIFE

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This Can't Be Love

[Continued from page 34]

Among those who find Benny and Allen
not exactly Damon and Pythias is George
McCall, radio commentator, who does not
dare visit the set since he joined Captain
Allen's Slur-Slingers, Company 1492V2, by
saying, '"When they put Benny's footprints
in the lobby of Grauman's Chinese
Theater, Fred Allen's footprints walked
away."

Sources close to the scene say Captain
Buck Benny's Company is "too reserved
and gentlemanly to point out that neither
combatant has yet dropped an oxford in
Sid Grauman's wet cement."

But the Bennyites won't refuse to admit
that the script of Love Thy Neighbor calls
for wrestling and fistcuffing for Neighbors
Fred Allen and Jack Benny, respectively.
They want the best man to win, knowing
it is Benny, despite the pugilistic, Cam-
bridge, Massachusetts, name of Fred
Allen — John F. Sullivan. He is, however,
no relative of boxing's John L.

On the set of Love Thy Neighbor, the
boys either let their barbs fly at one
another in person or deliver them by word
or note through third parties.

"So Allen is taking boxing lessons?"
Benny laughed and plopped into his
canvas-backed chair. Slicked up in a black
overcoat, top hat, knitted white silk scarf,
mirror-shine patent leather shoes, and a
New Year's Eve whoopee horn in his
pocket, he flexed a bicep menacingly. "No
doubt he's preparing for things to come."

Allen espionage agents reported this to
their chief, who cracked bitingly, "It might
be a tough battle, but Jack has the advant-
age. I'm only two-fisted. He's two-faced!"

Answered Benny, "The only things
athletic about Fred are his feet. He's so
afraid of pain that I suspect he takes a
local anesthetic when he gets a manicure."

Face screwed into a typical Allenesque
grimace, Fred shot back, "Benny has so
few red corpuscles that he can't even see
red. He is so anemic that when he wheel-
chaired past a dozen kennels of blood-
hounds at a local prize dog show, not one
of them lifted a nostril with an acknowl-
edging sniff."

That should have put Jack in the hands
of the receivers, but after a five-minute
conference with gag-writers Bill Morrow
and Eddie Beloin, he preserved his dignity
by sending only a stern note of reply
to Allen:

"Despite Mr. Allen's physical culture
campaign, it is doubtful whether he could
go one round by himself. Strength is
such an absent quality in Mr. Allen's
makeup, which I hesitate to refer to as
physical makeup, that if we put on the
gloves together and began to spar, I would
be shadow boxing inside three seconds."

| Amid this verbal and written
exchange of lefts and rights, the tim-
orous bystander who wishes to preserve
his neutrality wonders just how this
Allen-Benny feud made its debut.

Well, to abbreviate it, the feud had its
coming out in the New York winter sea-
son of 1936 — to be exact, the raw cold

evening of December 30. Fred Allen
customarily invited a handful of amateurs
to participate in each week's broadcast,
and on that night Stewart Canin, a ten-
year-old violinist bowed his way through
a tricky solo, The Bee.

"That should make Jack Benny mighty
ashamed of himself," ad-libbed the ace
ad-libber. "He's been trying to play that
piece for forty years and hasn't succeeded
yet."

It was just a quip that passed in the
night — apparently.

Next Sunday Jack made a remark that
"a certain reformed juggler" had done him
an injustice and retorted, "When I was
ten years old, I could play The Bee too."

Thus came love to Neighbors Benny and
Allen, who have been swapping slams
from Hollywood and New York ever since.

| Jack was born on St. Valentine's Day
— "and what a boon to the comic valen-
tine industry," Fred dryly admits. Like
most kids, Jack went to Junior and Senior
High school with only a mild distaste for
teachers. His distaste for working in his
dad's haberdashery shop was anything but
mild.

Helping customers select chapeaux for
bald pates and orange neckties with
barber-pole stripes to match a cerise suit
went against the Benny artistic grain,
which began to assert itself when Jack
traded a Honus Wagner bat, a pair of
clamp skates, a Hohner harmonica, and
two bucks for his first fiddle.

Every exercise in the books and Rubin-
stein's Melody in F took an awful beating
— as did neighbors who were not psychic
enough to see a future in music for Jack.

Anyhow, as a high school student, he
tried, to crash Waukegan's only theater
with his own orchestra. He did, but his
bandsmen didn't. After all, the manager
could use only one ticket-taker. Later
Jack established a non-stop talk record,
convinced the manager he should be on
the stage fiddling, and did until fire in-
spectors closed the theater because of old
age.

Then it was vaudeville. During World
War I, he played in The Great Lakes
Review for sailors training at the Great
Lakes Naval Station. Nobody threw him
even a rusty penny. In desperation he
began talking more and playing less. He
passed the hat, got it filled with coins,
jokingly asked for "a second helping," and
got it.

On that day Buck Benny became a
monologuist and began getting regular
bookings. Fred Allen's name was just
another item in Variety and Billboard to
Jack. They hadn't actually met until six
months before their feud started.

In rapid order Jack made his debut in
The Hollywood Review at M-G-M, wentto
New York for a leading role in Earl Car-
roll's Vanities, and broadcast one night as
guest of a columnist. Next week he was
signed to a long-term radio contract.
Every Sunday night listener knows the
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H Fred Allen says his life really began
at about half the age Walter Pitkin
claims life begins.

As a young fellow who set "returned"
books back in the proper stalls at the
Boston Public Library for twenty cents an
hour, Fred spied a tome on juggling.
Eureka! He read it from frontispiece to
rear cover, and when the librarian wasn't
around, practiced juggling books.

He had Shakespeare, Chaucer, Milton,
and Shelley up in the air all at once for
the first time in their history when the
head librarian walked into the room.
Fred's animated hands froze. Shakespeare
slapped the concrete floor. Shelley nose-
dived. Milton ended up sprawled on
Shakespeare, and Chaucer landed — ker-
plunk!— on the librarian's high forehead.
End of act two!

An improved juggler, Fred went on the
stage, copped a prize at a Boston theater
one night, and was about to receive the
award from the famous fighter, John L.
Sullivan, master of ceremonies, when the
great John L. asked him his name. Fred
said it as it was written on his birth
certificate — John F. Sullivan.

"Sullivan?" barked John L. "That's no
name for a juggler."

It wasn't. So when Fred — and a hun-
dred others — wanted an audition for a
vaudeville troupe, he changed his name
to Allen, because the person in charge

asked for applicants in alphabetical order.

Early in his career, he earned his repu-
tation as the acme of ad-libbers. He
dropped one of his circling ten-pins and a
couple of tennis balls, and the loud m-cee
asked, "Where did you learn how to start
to try to juggle?"

Fred glanced out at the audience and
retorted in his twangy, nasal best: "I
studied a correspondence course in bag-
gage smashing!"

Fred, whose mind is perpetual motion
machinery on jokes and witticisms, hesi-
tated in tackling radio, thinking he might
not be funny unseen. It didn't take him
long to learn he was wrong.

Since 1936, Allen and Benny have known
each other — from a distance. Fred dislikes
Hollywood. Jack likes Hollywood. Con-
sequently, the boys have never really been
together long enough to know each other
well.

But what Fred started on that winter
night's broadcast doesn't seem to stop.

■ When Fred and his party got off at the
Union Station in Los Angeles to begin
work in Love Thy Neighbor, Benny wasn't
there. He was at NBC rehearsing that
evening's program, but he had a com-
mittee of beauteous babes, carrying insult-
ing signs, and a city official — a street
sweeper — to greet Fred.
"Benny wouldn't dare meet me him-

Shopping Guide

Your fashion editor gives you, below, a partial list of department stores where
you can buy the clothes and accessories shown on pages 32 and 33. If a store in
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Address Candida, HOLLYWOOD Magazine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

Kayser long woolen underpants and matching
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self," rasped Allen. "He's afraid I'd pull
his hair out — and he'd have to go home to
get some more!"

Jack waived the remark and approached
Fred the next day, extending the olive
branch.

"I'm not one to bear a grudge," he
explains. "We offered Allen and his party
the chance to stay with us. But in his
usual sour fashion he refused. Mary and
I were very disappointed. We had gone
to the trouble of cleaning out the whole
cellar."

And, later, when Jack had returned
from his Hawaiian trip, he broke into the
conference of Producer-Director Mark
Sandrich, Allen, and script writers, asking
them to delay the picture.

"I'm in swell condition," said Jack, "but
I think I should have a short rest before
going to work with Allen, because I am
somewhat weary mentally. I was met in
Honolulu by 27,000 people, which is four
fans and two Kanakas more than greeted
Shirley Temple. They were lovely to me,
but they all put leis around my neck.
And carrying 27,000 leis — it is bad luck to
take them off — sort of dulls the mind and
the olfactory nerves after three weeks."

Allen, frowning his vinegar frown, dis-
gust puckering his eyes, said dryly, "The
only reason there weren't 27,000 people
to greet Benny on his return here is that
extras cost more in Los Angeles than they
do in Honolulu — and Benny wouldn't put
out that much dough!"

Before Love Thy Neighbor went into
production, Producer-Director Mark
Sandrich promised Fred that Jack would
positively not play The Bee in the picture.

"He won't?" screamed Allen. "He
can't!"

So history is becoming repetitious, and
Benny feels the sting of The Bee.

And speaking of Jack, he was chatting
through his teeth which were clenching
the ever-present, roly-poly, brown cigar:

"You know, one of the most charming
qualities is tolerance — tolerance for Allen.
How many headlines have you ever read
to this effect: 'Comedian Benny Tears Out
Jugular Vein of Obscure Radio Per-
former?' None — yet!"

Allen was outside earshot. Allen espion-
age agents were out of sight, and the
remark fell on ears but not the right ones.

The whole setup is crazy — this Love Thy
Neighbor business. Benny and Allen have
been slamming each other for years. And
now attacks are more venomous than ever.
Jack doesn't like Fred's habit of chewing
tobacco. Fred doesn't like Jack's smoking
so many cigars. Jack thinks Fred's boxing
is done purely in the mind. Fred thinks
Jack's vigorous "in the hills" hiking is
something dreamed up in the minds of
Benny's publicists.

Allen likes living in a two-by-nothing
apartment with his wife, Portland, officiat-
ing at the range. Benny likes lavish sur-
roundings— a dozen baths and a swimming
pool. Allen is almost a Peter the Hermit.

Benny is a social-smoothy who loves com-
pany in quantity. There is one thing Jack
likes about Fred — "His lovely middle
name: Florence."

H As tastes differ, so do Benny and
Allen. They do not associate from lack
of common interests, rather than from ani-
mosity. Let anyone outside the Benny
circle toss a disparaging remark at Allen,
and watch Jack blow a fuse. Let anyone
disparage Benny, to Allen, and watch
Allen come back with a slicing remark.

They are each other's common sadistic
property, and let no man try to put in an
oar. It's a case of brother abuse brother —
but with a limited entry.

Neighbors Allen and Benny may dispute
about who should get top billing in the
picture; they may wrangle because Fred
has seventeen changes of costume and Jack
has but three; they may spar about which
of them will cop the Oscar for 1940, but it
is all good, wholesome, homecooked stuff.

In a philosophical mood, Fred often
wonders whether he or Jack, whom he
calls "the streamlined Joe Miller," will
leave his humorist's footprints on the sands
of time. He is not sure about this.

But there is one thing about which he
is reasonably certain. It's the footprints
in the lobby of Grauman's Chinese
Theater, and he says, "If Sid Grauman
ever stoops to inviting Jack Benny to put
his footprints in the lobby of the theater,
I'll keep my feet at home!"

It was an off day for
Mimi all right — she was re-
hearsing with about as much
pep as a wooden Indian. "Stop!"
I groaned, and hauled out a package
of Beeman's to cheer myself up.

That's when Mimi came to life ! She
grabbed the Beeman's and did a pir-
ouette that took even my breath.
"Stingy!" she laughed. "Don't you
know it's my favorite flavor? Bee-
man's! But yes! It is so delicious —
so different. Smooth with a zip. Like
this!" And she did that little number
with the big whirl and kick — it's been
the talk of the show ever since.

*Z/PS J?/G€Sr/OM

Quick Tricks

[Continued from page 14]

no critical eye can tell where it stops and
you begin.

All of which makes the rouge I dis-
covered the other day just the answer to
your prayers and mine. In the first place,
it looks far more like a peachy founda-
tion cream than a rouge — in the jar, that
is. But when you blend it lightly over
your cheeks, it takes on the loveliest, deli-
cate pink tone — for all the world like your
own coloring. You just can't get that
blatant, over-rouged effect with this prod-
uct. If you"re extra tired, and sure
that electric lights will make you look
pale and sallow try touching up your
whole face, ever so sparingly of course,
with this cheek tint. I did that for a party
the other day — and never had so many
people, . men and women, tell me how
pretty I was looking! The rouge gives
you a glow that will last all evening — or
all day for that matter. And it blends
so easily, without giving you any edges
or "pools" of color, that you can get that
natural look even when you have to
make-up in five minutes.

■ To go with the cheek tone, you really
should have the liquid lip coloring
from the same manufacturer. Because it
won't come off with the ice-cream soda,
midnight coffee or good night kiss. It
comes in several smart colors, and will
give your lips a luscious sheen. There's
a convenient squeegee applicator in the
bottle top that makes the coloring easy
to apply. You can even change the shape
of your mouth slightly, and build it up
in a full pout like Bette Davis, or out at
the corners for the wide generous mouth
made popular by Joan Crawford. The
color is opaque enough so that it won't
show where you've painted over the edges
that nature gave you. ... A good sized
bottle of the liquid that will last as long
if not longer than a lipstick (because you
don't have to re-apply it so often) costs
only a dollar. The cheek coloring is the
same price. Want the name?

H Ever notice Connie Moore's lashes on
the screen? They're long and lovely,
aren't they? But they wouldn't be half
as exciting if she didn't use mascara to
darken their tips, and an eyelash curler
to give them that fascinating swoop. You
see, Connie's hair is really quite blond —
though I'd never have guessed it from her
pictures. So it follows that her lashes
would be quite light, too. They wouldn't
count for much of anything, on screen or
off, if mascara didn't show them up for
all they're worth. Try using mascara
yourself, to bring out the full length of
your lashes, so your "b.f." will look twice
at your eyes tonight! But be sure to use
a lash curler first, to set the lashes swiftly
in an upward sweep that shows more of
your eyes, therefore makes them look
larger. Then apply the mascara spar-
ingly, with just a bit on the brush; let
it half dry, and separate the lashes with
quick upward strokes of a clean brush.
That's the trick that keeps lashes from

sticking together in gooey hard "spikes,"
and keeps the mascara from going on un-
evenly. Be sure to send for the name of
a convenient, harmless, and easy-to-use
curler for your lashes, and of a cunning
little mascara compact that carries its own
water supply (to moisten the brush) and
two shades of mascara, one for day, the
other for evening. Neither are very ex-
pensive, but they do make your eyes look
like a million dollars!

Just room to tell you about a grand
hand cream that does a super swift job
of softening and whitening your hands.
It's a pale pink cream that disappears
quickly into the skin, doesn't leave a trace
of stickiness — but does leave your pretty
paws smooth and soft as they can be!
Try massaging it down the fingers, as
though you were drawing on a pair of
tight kid gloves. Pinch the fingertips

Write me before December 15, please,
if you would like the names of any of
the products mentioned in this article.
Be sure to enclose a self-addressed,
stamped envelope (U. S. postage,
please) for my reply. Address your letter
to Ann Vernon, HOLLYWOOD Maga-
zine, 1501 Broadway, New York City.

Geraldine Fitzgerald, dressed for the
California sun, hangs her dart board
outside so that there is plenty of space
for those inevitable misses. Her next
film for Warners is Trial and Error

gently as Connie does, to give them a
more tapering appearance. And don't for-
get your elbows — especially if you're
wearing one of the short sleeved pastel

wools for your date. Rough elbows never
won any man! The cream comes in ten
cent sizes, so you can try it, and larger
ones, of course. Interested?

Oakie Strikes Back

[Continued from page 19]

To get the dejected jester back into his
usual antic fever, we demanded data on
other skirmishes, battles in which the
moon-faced one hadn't emerged second
best. Jack brightened up.

"Me, I've been on the grab for all un-
protected scenes, ranging from my first
case of grand larceny at Paramount the
year Lindbergh made his hop, to my
latest triumph in thievery in The Great
Dictator." Jackie sighed. "There's a pic-
ture for you. Pure Art, yes, sir, pure Art.
The old Oakie stealth was taxed to the
maximum against Chaplin, the great
Master. But guile triumphed."

We asked Mr. Oakie to start from the
beginning and tell some of his trade
secrets before he did a monologue on
The Great Dictator.

"The Handlers' Union won't like it — me
revealing all the cunning of thousands of
years of hard labor," he protested rather
mildly.

"Handlers!" we exclaimed.

Mr. Oakie decided that indignation was
a waste of time. Obviously, he was talking
to a babe-in-arms as far as the laugh
industry went.

"A guy like me — I'm no comic. I'm a
handler. I'm strictly on the virtuoso side.
I knock 'em dead (or knock myself out)
by sheer on-the-spot business. Take the
scripts which call for my talents. They
say briefly: 'At this point Oakie takes it
big.' You get no blueprints, brother. You're
on your own."

Mr. Oakie was getting expansive by the
second.

"Before I go into the Oakie technique,
I gotta tell you something that gives me
a laugh every time I think of it. I'm sitting
at home minding my business when the
telephone rings. When? Well, almost any
night since 1928. Where was I? Oh, yes,
I'm there studying the racing form, purely
academic interest, when the 'phone rings.
Some producer is on the wire.

" 'Jack, my boy,' he begins, 'I've got a
part for you that'll make you. So it'll make
you all over again. It's terrific. It's mon-
strous. It's . . . ' I cut him off. What I tell
him is this:

" 'Look here, Mr. Stufflebeme, if the part
is that good, you don't need Oakie, the
treasury department's boy friend, the kid
who pays his income taxes like a good
little man. What you want is a $100-a-
week comic. With that kind of a part he
couldn't miss.'

"Then he breaks down and admits the
picture is hardly calculated to win the
Academy Award, and confesses some red
blood corpuscles are needed in a hurry.
In short, some artistic 'handling.' So I end
up by giving in, after making sure that
the price is right.

"Each one of us handlers has our own
individual technique. We may be in there

to kill the smell of a bad story, but in-
cidentally, we're all right in there pitching
and trying to make the leading man look
like a sap. When two of us is cast in the
same melodrama, the carnage is some-
thing awful. But to get back to the
specialists.

"Now with Edward Everett Horton it's
the double-take. He wakes up five minutes
after something fantastic has been said
and registers shock or surprise. The people
lap it up. But I got a theory on how to
stymie brother Horton. I'll get my wrists
slapped by the Union, but maybe it'll be
a big help to Gable or Taylor or Tracy.
Well do I remember when Eddie and I
were tossed into the same epic. I'd do an
Oakie fish- eye, only to have Horton back
me off into the shade by his take 'ems. So
what do I do? I fight Horton with Horton.
I do double-takes myself. And the result
is, to put it mildly, a Mexican stand-off."

"How do you protect your rights against
someone like Mickey Rooney?" we de-
manded.

"Rooney?" Oakie echoed. "The boy's all
right. But we old-time handlers take him
in our stride. Mickey jumps all over the
place. How I put the clamp on the situa-
tion, when the opposition is over-active,
is no trick at all. I stop dead still. And the
audience follows me. If the enemy coun-
ters by slowing up, I play my hole card:
I turn my back on the camera. That sews
the situation up."

Mr. Oakie paused to re-light his cigar
and picked up the loose thread.

"This business of making people laugh
has any number of angles, ranging from
catch-penny to true art. Now you take
Harold Lloyd. Purely a situation man. You
laughed at the predicaments he got him-
self in. W. C. Fields, on the other hand,
is a low comedian. You don't believe him
even when you make out his lines, most
of which are smothered in double talk
anyway. His forte is slipping and sliding
all over the sound stage. He's prepos-
terous. Which is why you laugh.

"Joe Penner gets his sock from his
prancing around. But it's a losing game,
playing a jumping bean. Why? Simple as
pie. The cartoon comes in and makes you
look sick. Donald Duck can do four times
as much and never get winded.

"Bob Hope is something else again. The
boy's the king of the light comedians. He
dabbles in whimsey. But he covers himself
almost totally with lines. Superior stuff.
No mistake about it."

We interrupted to inquire where Art

came in.
"I was headed in that direction," Jack
volleyed back, "and that would be Mr.
Chaplin. He's funny instinctively. And
he's not only a great constructionist, but
the number one pantomimist alive. With

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Chaplin it's timing. Never forget it, boy,
he's got an immortal sense of timing.

"Way back in the silent days, Chaplin
discovered the importance of timing. He
would let himself get socked on the head
by a Keystone cop. Then he'd walk clear
around the block and collapse at the very
spot where he got slugged originally —
forty frames back. It used to convulse
the citizens."

They had begun shooting on the stage
and a yes-man suggested that Mr. Oakie
interrupt his lecture for a moment. A tall,
blond girl was singing, "Oh Genevieve, My
Genevieve." Mr. Oakie only shrugged.

When the all-clear signal was given, he
carried on.

"I'll tell you a secret about Chaplin," he
said. "He misses those old silent cameras.
He used to be able to gauge his tempo by
the click-click-click of those manual
machines. In The Great Dictator, he had
to depend on that great ticker of his."

H Mention of The Great Dictator caused
a detour in the lecture on comedy.

"Yep, it was old Charlie that revived
traffic in the Oakie stock. They had almost
quit quoting it on the big board. There
I was, fresh-arrived from a fourteen-
month tour of the world, when Sid Chaplin
calls me up.

" 'I've got a wonderful part for you,' he
tells me with no warning. I ask for par-
ticulars, of course.

" 'You're to play Mussolini in The Great
Dictator,' he tells me. Only I'm ready with
one myself.

" 'Who's directing?' I want to know. Sid
gets annoyed.

" 'Don't you want to hear the story?'
he yells.

" 'Nope,' I tell him. I can see it in the
script. 'Oakie, as Signor Mussolini, takes
it big.' The usual Oakie stuff.

"I don't have to tell you what a sap I
was. After I talk to Charlie, I learn I'm in
a fancy picture — none of this losing your
pants to get a laugh business. Oakie is
knee-deep in Art."

H That first morning when the two met

in conference, Oakie really discovered

Chaplin. For years the king of pantomime

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HOLLYWOOD COSMETICS INC.. 333 S. MARKET ST., CHICAGO. EL
STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP. MANAGEMENT.
CIRCULATION. ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACTS OF
CONGRESS OF AUGUST 24, 1912. AND MARCH 3. 1933
Of HOLLYWOOD published monthly at Louisville. Ken-
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State of Connecticut )
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Before me, a Notary Public in and for the State and
county aforesaid, personally appeared Roger Fawcett, who,
having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says
that he is the Business Manager of HOLLYWOOD and
that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and
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(and if a daily paper, the circulation), etc., of the afore-
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Act of March 3, 1933, embodied in section 537, Postal Laws
and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, to
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1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor,
managing editor, and business manager are: Publisher,
Fawcett Publications. Inc., Greenwich, Conn.: Editor.
Llewellyn Miller, New York, N. Y. ; Managing Editor,
Ralph Daigh, New Rochelle, N. Y. ; Business Manager,
Roger Fawcett, New Rochelle. N. Y.

2. That the owner is: (If owned by a corporation, its
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or holding one per cent or more of total amount of stock.
If not owned by a corporation, the names and addresses of
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Sworn to and subscribed before me this 13th day of
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[Seal] DOROTHY C. ZIPF.

Notary Public
(My commission expires November 9, 1943.)

had been getting ready for the picture.
He had read every speech of Hitler's. And
he had on hand a dozen records of these
same speeches. Likewise of Mussolini.

"Before we can strike at what these men
represent, using comedy as our weapon,
we must first understand what they are
really like," Chaplin had told him that
first day.

To make all this possible he had as-
sembled every available photograph of
Hitler and Mussolini in characteristic
poses. Most precious of all were the
photographs taken when Mussolini was
Hitler's guest at Berlin.

"Those pictures gave Charlie the cue
for the tone of the entire picture. It was
the tip-off on these two guys."

We leaned over, pencil poised, listening
to the curbstone clairvoyant.

"Fundamentally these dictators are a
couple of hams at heart. Give them an
audience of four, and they'll make a
speech. When they get together, they have
no common interests. They're busy trying
to top one another, to steal the scene.

"Charlie got this slant from studying
the Hitler-Musso pictures. One, taken at
the station, is a knockout. It shows Hitler
at the station leading the way while
Mussolini debarks from a train, Musso
mugging it to beat the band. Hitler, like
any ham, is scared that he's being shoved

into the shade. The photographer catches
him just as he's looking back at his guest,
a worried look over that silly pan of
his.

"Which is how come I get to swipe a
couple of scenes from Chaplin in The
Great Dictator. Up to the last I think I
abscond with them by slipping up on the
old master through treachery. Finally I
just up and tell him — my conscience
worries me. Charlie only looks at me
and smiles.

" "That is the way I had it all planned,'
he says. 'You see I wrote the script, every
word of it, just the way you "stole" it.' "

Would The Great Dictator solve any of
our international ills? Mr. Oakie shrugged
again.

"Me, I don't see any comforting moral
in the picture unless it's the curtain.
Hitler and Mussolini have just discussed
an invasion. At the fade-out they seal the
bargain in the presence of their Cianos
and Ribbentrops by twining their arms
around one another in a brotherly em-
brace.

"Only each is looking over the other's
shoulders at his stooge. What you see in
their eyes is not eternal friendship. It is
the old double-cross, my boy, the old
double-cross. Does that answer your
question?"

It did.

Hollywood Newsreel

[Continued from page 10]

in his long winning streak are Carole
Lombard, Irene Dunne, Ann Sheridan,
Claudette Colbert, Madeleine Carroll,
Katharine Hepburn, Gladys Swarthout,
Alice Faye, Jean Arthur and Barbara
Stanwyck. He expects to be back in cham-
pionship form for his next encounter.

J No Hollywood player is immune to
occasional sieges of line-muffing, the
tongue-twisters usually coming in series
of three, but Marie Wilson, the dumb-bell
comedienne, hit a new high in a speech to
Tom Rutherfurd in Virginia.

The line in the script read like this:

"Psst!"

Warming up for it, Marie moved the
two preceding lines and then, in a blaze
of glory, let go with: "Ssstp!"

H Curt Bois, the imported comedian
who scored solidly in He Stayed for
Breakfast and The Lady in Question,
takes time out to deny that he is solely
responsible for all the laughs he drew in
the latter picture as a ludicrous member
of the jury.

When he showed up on the set with a
pair of oversize, squeaking shoes, he was
credited with more humorous ingenuity
than he actually expended.

The squeak in the misfit shoes was en-
tirely accidental. Curt rented them from
the Western Costume Company, just
around the corner from the studio. He
realized that they were none too nifty a
fit and that they were piped for sound,
but he was in a hurry and had no suitable
substitutes in his personal wardrobe.

The surplus space in the brogans set up
an acoustic condition responsible for the
squeak, a touch that added so much to the
addle-headed character that Bois was por-
traying that Director Charles Vidor or-
dered them kept in the routine.

The total effect of the trick shoes was
so absurd that the director himself broke
up several takes with uncontrollable
laughter.

The Western Costume Company got no
screen credit.

U Mr. and Mrs. Albert Basserman have
a regular caller every afternoon the
distinguished character actor is free of
studio duties. She is Jean, the five-year-
old daughter of a neighbor.

One Saturday afternoon, forced to cut
her visit short, the child gravely explained:
"Mama's giving a party and I gotta go
home now and make precocious remarks."

am*

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I'm thinking of buying: a Corona. Please send free
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I ■■ ■■ ■■ Just to get acquainted with
new customers, we will beautifully enlarge
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inal returned with your free enlargement.
Send it today.
Geppert Studios, Dept.1245 Des Moines, Iowa

NOW I KNOW

LOVES

Romance Begins with

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Name

Address.

City

. Stale.

Football

Buffet

Ida Lupino decorates herself with a brilliant "blazer," quite in
keeping with her cleverly designed af ter-the-big-game buffet spread
for football followers. Her next picture at Warners is High Sierra

By BETTY" CROCKER

H Open house season
at Ida Lupino's and
Louis Hayward's is al-
ways with us. If Ida and
husband Louis aren't
h o m e — i t's still open
house. They've had a
flock of keys made to the
side door which leads to
their English-tavern-
type rumpus room which
they call "The Pub." Pals
come and go as they
desire. Their hill-top California farm-
house radiates friendliness. The chintzy
living room, the open windows, looking
out over a view to be bragged about even
in a town where almost everyone has a
view, the cheery fires in three fireplaces —
all spell a welcome that is matched in
warmth only by the hospitality of the
Haywards.

Because Louis wouldn't allow Ida to tire
herself with entertaining when she's
working on a picture — as she almost
always is, these days — there developed
spontaneously a series of Sunday night
Dutch Treat suppers, to which each guest
brought his favorite dish. Somebody
would bring the potato salad, another
would tote a cake up the hill to the Hay-
wards, and so on until the buffet table
would be groaning with good things sup-
plemented by hot coffee, rolls, jams and,
without fail, an elaborate array of cheeses
from Ida's pantry.

Now that the football season is in full
swing, Ida's favorite method of entertain-
ing is with a Saturday night supper, fol-
lowing the game. Hollywood, like the rest
of the country, is football-mad. And Ida is
fully aware that for whipping up a raven-

ous appetite, there's
nothing like an afternoon
in the crisp air, cheering
on one's favored team,
followed by a long ride
through traffic jams. So
her guests know that
when they finally reach
their own goal, which is
the Haywards' cozy din-
ing room, they'll find
plenty of hot dishes to
warm and soothe the
inner man, even though the meal is served
"Grabeteria" style.

This dining room of the Haywards is
different from most other dining rooms.
Old English in feeling and architecture, it
has a corner fireplace, beamed ceiling
overlaid with sapling lengths that still
retain their bark and woody odor; a long
table lined with green-cushioned benches.
As a starter for the "Grabateria," there
was an array of appeteazers — call it hors
d'ouvres, antipasto, smorgasbord or what
you will — including ripe and green olives,
celery, radishes, salted nuts, salami, an-
chovies, liver sausage, etc. (That "etc."
covers a lot of territory!) The roast was
beef — rare, with Yorkshire pudding which
is one of the first things a new cook has
to learn in the Lupino-Hayward manse.
Then there were both baked potatoes and
creamed new potatoes in green pepper
rings. Split French rolls toasted with
cheese. A gigantic green salad, with many
vegetables topped off with strips of ham
and chicken, and a steaming plate of ravi-
oli with a rich sauce, for the very hungry.
A devil's food cake, with coffee, or a deli-
cious plum pudding.

Here is Ida's recipe for devil's food crl-e.

REAL RED DEVIL'S FOOD CAKE

Vz cup shortening
IVz cups sugar
2 eggs
4 tbsp. cocoa

1 tsp. red liquid vegetable coloring

2 tbsp. hot coffee

2 cups sifted cake flour or

174 cups sifted all-purpose flour

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. soda

1 cup sour milk or buttermilk

1 tsp. vanilla

Cream shortening, add sugar gradually,
and cream until fluffy. Blend in the well
beaten eggs. Mix cocoa, red coloring and
hot coffee together to form a smooth paste.
Blend it into the creamed mixture im-
mediately (cocoa mixture tends to stiffen
upon standing).

Sift flour, salt and soda together, and
add to creamed mixture alternately with
the sour milk or buttermilk. Blend in the
vanilla. Pour into 2 well-greased and
floured round 8-inch layer pans (lVi
inches deep) ; one 8-inch tube center pan;
or one 8-inch square pan (2V2 inches
deep). Bake 40 to 45 minutes for layers;
55 to 60 minutes for cake in tube center
pan; 70 minutes for square cake ... in a
moderate oven, 350°.

When cool, spread Double Boiler Icing
or any desired icing over top and sides of
the cake.

Double Boiler Icing

1 egg white

% cup sugar

Vs tsp. cream of tartar

3 tbsp. water

Vz tsp. vanilla

Combine in the top of a double boiler
egg white, sugar, cream of tartar and
water, and beat together just enough to
blend ingredients. Place over rapidly
boiling water and beat with rotary beater
until mixture is white and very light.
(Icing is done when it barely holds its
shape and is not runny, as beater is pulled
out.) This takes 5 to 7 minutes depending
on size of boiler and vigor of heating.
Remove from over hot water, and do not
beat any more. Fold in the flavoring.

This will make a generous amount of
icing for square cake or a cake baked in
a tube center pan . . . just enough for
filling and icing for 2-layer cake.

ENGLISH PLUM PUDDING

1 lb. suet
1 lb. raisins

1 lb. currants
Vz lb. citron

% lb. lemon peel
Vi lb. orange peel

2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
2 tsp. salt

IV2 tsp. soda
2 tsp. cinnamon
Vz tsp. nutmeg
1V2 tsp. mace

1 cup chopped walnuts

1 lb. brown sugar

3 cups fresh bread crumbs

% cup currant or other tart jelly

5 eggs

Vz cup fruit juice

Chop suet. Wash and chop raisins and
currants. Slice and chop heated citron.
Cut orange and lemon peel fine. Dredge
the raisins, currants, fruit peel and nuts
with Vz cup of the flour. Sift remaining
flour with the salt, soda, and spices. Com-
bine flour mixture with sugar, bread
crumbs and suet. Add jelly, beaten eggs
and fruit juice. Add fruit and nuts. Fill
4 one lb. well greased cans % full. Cover
molds, using heavy waxed paper tied
loosely over tops if molds have no covers.
Place in steamer or on rack in kettle of
boiling water and cover steamer tightly.
Allow pudding to steam 6 hours. Do not
lift cover during rteaming. Serve hot with
hard sauce.

Note: If pudding is to be stored, it
should be taken from mold, allowed to
cool and then wrapped in waxed paper
and stored in air-tight container. When
it is to be served return to mold and steam
1 hour.

SMART FASHION SPECIAL

FREE

Betty Crocker's Recipes
For Hearty Winter Appetites

Supper after the game, or after a
sleigh ride under the cold winter stars,
or after a skating or toboggan party —
all of these call for hearty food.

The ideal answer is a savory all-in-one-
dish combination that requires only a
salad or a tray of crisp relishes and bread
or rolls to go with it — in addition to lots
of steaming coffee, of course.

Betty Crocker has some delicious com-
binations of this sort that are just the
thing for these vigorous winter appetites.
She'll gladly send them to you, without
charge, if you will just fill out the at-
tached coupon and mail it to:

Betty Crocker
HOLLYWOOD Magazine
1501 Broadway
New York City, N. Y.

Please send your recipes for Food For
Hearty Winter Appetites to:

Name

Street

City

State

DESIGN

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S I L V E R P L A T E

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IRE DIAMOND CO., Dept. 253W, Jefferson, Iowa

Wrapped
As a Gift

Half the fun of Christmas
is the wrapping of pack-
ages, but Fritz Feld claims
that half the pain of
Christmas comes from
having to unwrap those
same packages. You will
see our cynical friend in
a new comedy portrayal
in Victory, released soon

-It'lPr

f^lJj

What a pretty package!

_jh-

But covered with stickers!

« i

And a Chinese-puzzle knot!

I thought as much. More ribhon!

And more tissue paper

Ah ! Getting close now-

Brute strength does it

m os m

Just what I wanted and needed most!

BETTY GRABLE

Featured in
20th Century Fox Picture
'Down Argentine Way"

LEARN BETTY* SECRET

8e/°,e

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FOR

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The attractive Gift
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■M

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